


This Is Real

by Elmbird



Series: Pound for Pound [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Come as Lube, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Gay Billy Hargrove, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, POV Billy Hargrove, POV Steve Harrington, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rough Sex, Rutting, Smut, Snowed In, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-02-13 04:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 80,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21488137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elmbird/pseuds/Elmbird
Summary: It all starts with the bruises Steve didn't give to Billy.Billy has a split from the top of his lip to the bottom, a black eye to match Steve’s black eye, and bruises on his jaw, same side as the split lip. Steve, didn’t do - that. There is too much damage there. He got what, three maybe four good punches in, but not good enough to do that. It looks painful. It makes him pause. Can feel the confusion showing on his face, Hargrove must be able to see it, the confusion. Blue eyes meet his. Tips his head back slightly and holds Steve’s gaze. Takes him in, and let’s Steve do the same in return. There is a gash across one of his eye brows too. Billy doesn’t shy away from Steve’s stare, he takes a slow drag from the cigarette he has pitched between his fingers making time feel like it grinds to a halt. Has this look in his eyes that’s challenging, a look that says, you don’t know me.Steve can’t look away. Blames it on the bruise he didn’t give to Billy Hargrove. And the question, If he didn’t who did?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Pound for Pound [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781461
Comments: 169
Kudos: 533





	1. Truth or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first go around at sharing my writing. It is unbetaed. Please be kind. 
> 
> Quick warning: Billy is pretty steep in self hatred.

There are screws loose in his head.

What made Billy do it, kick his ass like that? The thought just keeps rolling around. Maybe he should be angry, Billy is the one that helped knock them loose, but there are like, real things to be mad about. Real things to keep him up at night. He doesn’t want Billy Hargrove to be one of those things. Doesn’t want him to be added to the mess in his mind. Steve doesn’t want Billy Hargrove to become a thing.

~~~~~~~

It’s Wednesday, and the breakup with Nancy is fresh. It feels even fresher then Steve’s messed up, tenderized face. The winter grey morning and wind make it too cold to be waiting outside of his car. Hawkins High’s lot is starting to fill up. He thinks back to last week when he had ideas about his and Nancy’s future, adult ones that he actually thought out. He had told her that he would wait for her, stick around Hawkins and be here while she finished her senior year. Seconds later the blue Camaro had come thundering through with loud music blasting, it had grabbed everyone’s attention including Steve’s. He’d gotten out of Beamer to get a better look, so had Nancy. There he was, Billy Hargrove, the new kid, making a loud in your face appearance. It feels like Billy is always in his face.

He and Nancy never revisited the conversation about him working for his dad and staying in Hawkins for her…. One cup of spilled punch and it had all turned to bullshit…

_Like you love me?_

_It’s bullshit._

_You don’t love me anymore?_

_It’s bullshit._

Steve can’t seem to bring himself to care about missing two days of school. It doesn’t make him sweat, he has skipped school before. None of his teachers are going to give him shit about it. They don’t expect much from him anyways. That’s not why he is hesitating leaving the car. He’s waiting for Hargrove to show up. While he waits he keeps himself busy by taking one last look at his semifinished, doesn’t want to call it unfinished, English homework. He is about to shove it back into his backpack, but the last question answered is staring him in the face. He thinks about Nancy, how she came over the other night, brought him homework for both the days he missed. He really wanted to overlook the awkwardness between them, but it hung in the air, and then settled around them. He meant it, that it was okay, her and Jonathan. Steve can’t make her love him, and she can’t force herself to have feelings for him that she doesn’t have. It hurts like hell. If he can, he wants to keep her as a friend but maybe now isn’t the right time.

Having her over use to make the house feel less empty, with her warm smile, and the way she would say his name, _Steve_. Yesterday, they sat at his kitchen table together. Nancy had been right there, elbow to elbow with him, but she had felt so far away. Eye still badly swollen, and knuckles bruised enough that it made holding a pencil difficult she had stayed to read him the questions, and then write down his answer in her neat penmanship. She hadn’t been able to help herself from improving the answers he had given. They were still his answers - just better.

He has to think about it, ask himself, if she had loved him, really, ever? In the beginning ... for a little bit, maybe. Not like Jonathan, though. She is in love Byers, he knows that. Her being in love with him isn’t something Steve can fight. He would be an asshole if he tried, and he doesn't want to do that to himself, or Nance. 

Steve hears the Camaro before he sees it. Just like when Billy arrived for the first time last week. Shit, has it really only been a week? He thinks it feels like a decade. Figures the lack of restful sleep will do that. He dreams of tunnels, and kids he can’t find, lost in some maze that is endless. Billy has been in his dreams too. In the distance, but there.

The bruises help to hide the bags under his eyes.

The bruises Jonathan gave him last year look like child’s play compared to what Billy did to his face. Before the Byers’ house he would have described the other boy as an asshole, wild, loud, and rough around the edges. No - now that he thinks about it, more like all edges. He knowns other kids with similar traits, maybe not so many put together. Tommy is loud and a grade A asshole. He supposes calling Carol rough around the edges is being nice. At first he had thought Billy’s kind of dangerous was like, steal your girlfriend. Not dangerous like, unhinged. Thank god for Max. Max. Maybe he could ask Max about it… Has your brother always been this nuts- this crazy- off balance?

This is probably a stupid move but it still feels like it’s his best option. Steve has thought it over. He knows avoiding Hargrove isn’t going to get him anywhere, and neither is challenging him to a rematch. First of all, avoiding Billy will make him look weak, and he knows better. The other boy would jump at the first sign of weakness. Second, he is willing to take a beating if it means keeping a gaggle of kids safe, that’s fine, but he’s not going openly invite the psycho to kick his ass again.

He runs a hand through his hair, tries to ignore his reflection in the review mirror as he waits for Billy to turn his car off. Steve wants to make looking Billy in the eyes the first thing he does. Wants the other boy to understand that Steve is not afraid of him, but there is no way in hell he is going to give him the time of day. It’s simple, what he is looking for is silent acknowledgment, and that is it. Period.

The Camaro is three cars down plus an empty parking space. It’s the right amount of distance. Just enough, but not too much. Steve steps out and into the cold morning air. A kid passing by on the grass must have gotten a good look at his face cause he’s pretty sure he hears an, _Oh shit_. Yeah, he knows what he looks like.

Billy is facing away from him. Steve can see his broad denim clad back over the tops of the cars separating them, blonde curls getting pulled by the cold breeze as he turns. Steve braces for it, wants to get it over. Look Billy in the eyes, show the other boy he is still standing, and move on.

Only - - Billy has a split from the top of his lip to the bottom, a black eye to match Steve’s black eye, and bruises on his jaw, same side as the split lip. Steve, didn’t do - _that_. There is too much damage there. He got what, three maybe four good punches in, but not good enough to do that. It looks painful. It makes him pause. Can feel the confusion showing on his face, Hargrove must be able to see it, the confusion. Blue eyes meet his. Tips his head back slightly and holds Steve’s gaze. Takes him in and let’s Steve do the same in return. There is a gash across one of his eye brows too. Billy doesn’t shy away from Steve’s stare, he takes a slow drag from the cigarette he has pitched between his fingers making time feel like it grinds to a halt. Has this look in his eyes that’s challenging, a look that says,_ you don’t know me._

It last all of five seconds before a blonde in a baby pink, puffy winter coat comes up to Hargrove. He slowly drags his gaze away from Steve. The girl is all smiles and batted eyelashes. She is flirting with him, openly and all cute, but he still gives Steve a parting glance before walking towards the school with her. Like he is checking to see if the other boy is still watching. Like there was a point to it or something. Steve can’t look away. Blames it on the bruise he didn’t give to Billy Hargrove. And the question, If he didn’t who did? 

On account of the concussion Steve has an out from basketball for the rest of the week. There are only a few weeks of practices left, what with two holiday breaks coming up and all. It’s a relief. At the start of freshman year Steve’s parents had insisted on him choosing a sport, it could be_ his choice,_ but he had to pick one and stick with it for all four years. Steve didn’t totally hate basketball, and Tommy was trying out for the team too. It had seemed like the right choice. His sophomore year the team had made it to the state finals. In the big game he had scored some points by making a couple good shots. It had helped to cement his popularity. So did having an empty house a couple weekends a month. By the summer after his sophomore year his parents were away more often than they were home and he was being called King Steve.

Coach takes the doctor’s note in strides. Tells him to rest up, and he expects Steve to be ready to hustle on Tuesday. Without practice there’s no reason for him to run into Hargrove. Hargrove - - the split lip - that wasn’t his doing, neither was the cut to his brow. He remembers giving him a bloody nose. If Hargrove had picked a fight with someone else, Nancy would have said something to him about it the other night, right?Rumors of it would sure as hell be running wild through the school. All that’s been circulating is he and Steve got into it. No details outside of that, thank god. No one has anything to go off, just each of their messed up faces. Which also means Billy hasn’t been talking. Hasn’t been bragging about how he laid Steve out.

~~~~~~~

Dinner at the Hargrove residence is; meatloaf, mash potatoes, and cooked carrots. The house is still only half unpacked. All the plates and silverware were the first things to be put away. Billy use to think the one good thing about Susan was she knows how to cook. Most of her meals are edible. Now, he’s reached the conclusion that she is totally useless. She has been avoiding Billy since the other night, won’t look him in the eye. Max has been weird too, has kept her head down around him. Doesn't get pissy with him like she usually does. He thought she would be all high and mighty after wielding that fucking nail covered bat. Billy doesn’t think Susan would have said anything to Max about standing there and watching his dad smack him around. Susan hasn’t forgot about the other night, though. She keeps looking nervously at Max, who is reading from a text book while eating her dinner. Dinner is _family time_, so says his dad. He got chewed out at the dinner table back home, in California, for trying to get a paper done during family time.

“Maxine, honey. Why don’t you leave your homework until after dinner.” Billy can heard it, the worry, right at the edge of Susan’s voice. She and Neil have been married for almost three years. Fuck her, though. He knows the other night didn’t come as a total surprise to her. Three years is too long of a time to be so fucking clueless, even for Susan. Probably tried to ease her conscience by telling herself some bullshit about Billy needing guidance or something, and his dad needing to make a point. How was a bad kid like Billy suppose to learn if Neil didn’t beat it in?

“Billy, stop pushing your food around.” Neil’s tapping his fork on the edge of his plate. Tap tap, “Your mother is right, Maxine. Go ahead and put your book away.” Tap tap tap. She does it without talking back. Something is up.

Every dinner is hell on earth. Having to sit there and wait it out. Every minute runs longer than the last. Back in California Billy could drive to LA. Driving fast, with music playing, and the volume cranked up he could make it into the city in an hour. He made the pilgrimage to see Metallica a couples times plus some other bands. It became his thing. His piece of freedom. Neil found out about the road trips, Max hadn’t actually meant to give him away, Billy knows that, but it doesn’t change what it cost him. 

He has to ask to be excused from the dinner table. Makes sure to thank Susan for the meal and tell her how good it was. Same bullshit every night. Rinse and repeat.

The music stops with a click, play button popping up on his Walkman. Billy stopped listening to the music awhile ago. Has been thinking of Harrington, and locking eyes with him at school this morning.He doesn’t make a move to open up the Walkman and flip over the tape, but also doesn’t take off his headphones. Just keeps laying there, on his back, across his bed. Light from the moon washes in, keeps it from being completely dark.

He doesn’t like girls, not in the way he needs too, not in the way that would lessen any of the hate his dad has for him. He likes everything on guys more than on chicks. Hands are bigger, legs stronger and dusted in hair, shoulders broader. LA is where he finally caved and gave in, did it enough times to know what he wants. What he likes. Billy’s back to thinking about Steve, and how he called him a pretty boy. The things he did in LA, he did them enough to know what he wants to do to Harrington. Billy thinks maybe Harrington is a wound, one he wants to keep picking at. Get his finger tips bloody, lick them clean when he’s done. 

~~~~~~~ 

Thursday between classes Mary Jensen catches up to Steve. She tells him there’s going to be a small party at her place on Saturday. Carol always says, _You need like a dozen people at least, to make it a party. _Steve’s not really keeping count as Mary rattles off the names. Thinks it might be a baker’s dozen that’s showing up, and that’s counting him. One of the names is Becky. Becky, who he screwed around with at the start of summer before last. She is dating Nick Adams from the basketball team now. Any hard feelings she might have towards him have probably faded. The others going are a handful of classmates that he likes alright. He doesn’t want to go, but he should. He needs to get back to some kind of normal. He tells himself, going would be the right thing to do. He needs to remember how to be a stupid teenager, how to go to stupid parties, and find some fun in it - or something.

Steve would rather see what the kids are up. Check in on them, but Hopper wants everyone to keep up appearances and keep their distance from each others as much as possible, for the time being. He bets that Hopper is having one hell of a time trying to keep Mike and El away from each other. One chief of police and two lovesick teenagers, one with superpowers and the other a complete little shit. There has to be a punch line somewhere.

How weird would it be for him to drop by Dustin’s house, see how he is doing? Dustin, Lucas, Max, and him never actually set foot in the lab. As far as the group can tell the government doesn’t know about their involvement. He is more than fine with them being clueless about him and the kids. The first go around had been way more than enough. Plus if Max gets dragged in by the government so does Billy. Steve stops himself from over thinking what a mess that would be. He could offer Dustin a ride home after school... maybe giving it a week is a good idea. Just to be on the safe side.

It’s almost eight, Steve is standing in the large open entryway of his house. He doesn’t want to leave, but also can’t stand how empty the house is. He’s just lingering there, in his own house, feeling out of place in his own skin. If his parents were here he would be counting down the minutes until they left, and as soon as they were gone he would be resenting them for leaving. There are so many reasons why he wants them here at home and then gone, that it makes him feel dizzy. He wishes his parents would stay because they always leave, and wants them gone because he doesn’t think he knows how to be around them anymore. Stay, because monster are real, and go, because they’re both so goddamn stupid. Stupid enough to believe what the men from the government had said about the whole mess. Stupid enough to let him sign page after page of government crisp white paper. He actually hates them a little bit for it too. Their willingness not to ask questions - no - no, that’s playing dumb, and there is a difference. The thought rolls around with the other loose screws. They’d rather play dumb than be inconvenienced by anything, including their own son. He lets his mind think over that a second time then a third. It’s the first time he connect the dots in that way. It’s what finally pushes him out the door. All the sudden desperate to get out.

Mary’s house is three blocks into Lock Nora. It’s a nice house, has a roomy daylight basement with green shag carpet, a style that was popular 10 years ago, and a big back yard. Kids alway sneak out to the far end of it to smoke a joint. As long as the wind is blowing the right way the smoke doesn’t make it back to the house. Steve has always liked the house, has gotten high in the back yard more than a few times. He usually likes other peoples houses more than his own. He likes houses that feel lived in and full, like the Wheeler’s. By the time he gets to the party most everyone has made their way to the basement. Mary’s ordering the last few people to hurry up.

“Come on! Everyone is down stairs already.”

Nick grabs Becky by the hips and helps her down from her seat on the kitchen counter. She giggles all cute, eyes on Steve the entire time. She’s got a big white bow in her teased hair which she adjust while saying hello to him. Steve has this uncomfortable feeling she’s trying to flirt with him, which is the last thing he wants. Nick doesn’t seem to notice it, he keeps talking at him about the up coming game against the Reedway Ducks. “Are you going to be good for the game next weeks, man?” He asks while pointing to Steve’s healing bruises, “It’s important we crush them. Can’t make it to finals if we don’t win. I’m just going to saying it. Alright. We can’t win if you and the new kid are too busy trying to beat the shit out of each other.”

Jesus Christ. Steve wants to say, _It wasn’t him who beat the shit out of Hargrove_, but he keeps it to himself. Questions he had tried to put away for the night unpack themselves. Head starts rattling with them. Why did Hargrove have to be Max’s step-brother and why did he have to show up that night? Where’d he get those dark bruises on his jaw? Too dark to have come from Steve’s few punches.

He turns to look over his shoulder as he follows Mary down the basement steps, calls up to Nick, “Hey, did the new kid get into it with someone?”

“He got into it with you.”

“Yea- no, I know that, but was there anyone else?”

“No, I don’t think so. I mean, he likes to run his mouth.”

“Yeah, know that too.” Their first practice together Hargrove hadn’t shut up, kept egging him on all while plastered to his back, crowding his space. A solid wall of muscle and never ending commentary.

According to Carol’s standards it’s a party, kids keep showing up. The basement is filling up, volume raising as more conversations start. Steve’s on his second beer, been taking it slow. Has a junior named Scott sitting to the right of him. Nick is on his other side, taking up a good portion of the couch, ignoring his girlfriend, and boring Steve with some story about summer camp that he is only half following. Can’t seem to get himself to focus on anything.

Becky cuts through the noise of the room with her extra loud laugh, teased hair bouncing as she tosses a look Steve's way. Why can’t Steve want Becky like he had - does want Nancy? He had chased after Becky at the end of Sophomore year. On the last day of school, in math class he had leaned forward over his desk to whisper in her ear, promises of a good time, a fun filled summer. _Come on, make it a great summer, hangout with me. What do you say?_ He had smiled at her to seal the deal.

Only turned out it wasn’t, great. He had lost interest in like, three weeks. Then a couple days before the 4th of July he had seen Laurie and her new red bikini at the Hawkins pool. It was very, _Fast Times at Ridgemont High_. He let himself get caught up in the idea. After all, wasn’t every guy suppose to be chasing after Phoebe Cates?Always the asshole, Tommy had knocked his sunglasses off his head while taunting him, _"__You don’t stand a chance is hell, Stevie boy. Not after you boned Becky."_ Carol had added, _"__They’re friends, not best friends or anything but I bet Becky’s already told Laurie how you did her wrong."_ She had made a mockingly sad frown at him.

He bedded Laurie before the start of the new school year. With the same results. The chase had been fun, but when he got down to it, it left him feeling empty. Not that he ever told Tommy or Carol that. Then the first day of Junior year he had seen Nancy. She didn’t look like a kid anymore, she could hold her own against the Tammys, Beckys and Lauries of Hawkins High. Could do them all one better. She was smart. Maybe the other girls were too, but Nancy didn’t hide it. Different kind of challenge. That’s how it had started. Get the brainy, good girl to hangout with him. Get her to laugh and smile. Get her to say his name sweetly. It had ended with him being in love with her.

He’s an idiot. He knows it.

Like out of a bad dream, and out of nowhere, Tommy and Carol are in the basement joining the party. “Sorry we’re late.” Carol calls out to Mary, sounding more annoyed than sorry. Nine times out of ten Tommy and Carol are late because they were busy having sex.

Steve didn’t realize the two of them had been invite to the party. They find an empty spot on the couch across from Steve and make themselves comfortable.

“Billy is on his way but he stopped to get cigarettes first.” Tommy says to the group he and Carol have joined, but looks at Steve while he saying it. Continues with, “Too bad there’s no keg, then we could have some real fun.” It’s a dig, Tommy is trying to get a reaction out of him. Carol rolls her eyes, obviously not amused with his maturity level either. She is probably tired of having to listen to him bitch about Steve. 

Steve schools his features, plays it cool, and turns back to Nick. Pretends to know what he has been going on and on about. “Oh yeah, sure.” Steve nods.

Becky chimes in over everyones conversations “There’s enough of us here to play a game!” That catches the room’s attention.

“How about spin the bottle?” Someone suggests

“Suck and blow!”

She shoots them down “Those are both so seventh grade, no.”

Carol says to the room, “Truth or dare is better.” Tommy doesn’t skip a beat, starts chanting “Truth or dare, Truth or dare…”a couple other kids join in.

Fuck. And fuck. Steve has too many truth he’d rather keep to himself, and he saves his stupid reckless moments for the Upside Down. And Billy is on his way. He is the last person that Steve wants to have around for a game of truth or dare. He doesn’t want the kid that runs his mouth getting a chance to ask him questions, and his dares would probably be something crazy dangerous. This night is starting to blow….

“Billy, my man!” Tommy’s voice cuts through Steve’s thoughts. He is looking over his shoulder before he can tell himself not to. Billy’s eyes are on him, has a smile that is big enough to show all his teeth. Basks in the chorus of greetings as he drops an already opened six pack on the table. Finishes the beer he has in his other hand in three big gulps. Steve watches the muscles in his throat work.

There is a pretty girl trying to make Billy notice the empty spot on the floor next to her, but he’s already pushing Tommy aside on the couch. Putting him facing Steve dead on. Doesn’t say a word to him, and for some reason Steve likes that even less than him running his mouth, guy always has something to say to him. Why so quiet now? Jesus, this night.

Mary announces to the room, that because she is the hostess she get to starts, “Okay, Scott truth or dare…”

Steve needs to get out. This is hell.

They are three truths and one dare in; stealing the answers for a math quiz, trying to bang a hot substitute teacher, showing up hungover to grandma’s funeral, and one phone call to ask a crush out.

Steve’s brain goes rattling around. This is too normal. The outdated basement, that’s currently being occupied by a bunch of high school kids, with nothing better to do on weekend night in early November than play some dumb game. It feels like he is starting to sweat. His truths don’t fit into this kind of normal. Barb’s death, the flower faced monster, the monsters that are the dog version of the flower faced monster, El with her freaky mind powers, and Will Byers' possession, or whatever it was. A year ago He signed like a hundred and fifty fucking pages of government papers. None of that fits here - he doesn’t fit here, doesn’t fit in his own empty house, doesn’t fit with Nancy anymore…

“Alright Steve, truth or dare? Steve…_ Hey Steve_?”

~~~~~~~

Billy watches as Steve’s head pops up. Watches as he comes back from wherever his thoughts took him. And it must have been pretty far judging by the not here look he has in his eyes. He notes how quickly pretty boy recovers, though. Flashes the boy next door smile, and then, “Truth- be told, I got to take a leak.” It’s makes a couple kids laugh. Billy smirks, it’s cleaver enough. Tommy call out bullshit, but Steve is already standing. He has his jacket on, probably never took it off.

“Yeah, yeah don’t worry I’ll be back, alright? Don’t do anything crazy while I’m away.” There must not be a bathroom in the basement because Steve is heading towards the stairs and none of the other kids think anything of it. 

It’s a lie, the part about coming back, Billy is sure of it. He doesn’t watch the the other boy go, instead he turns to Tommy, and makes his voice loud, drawing the attention of the room,“Tommy, truth or dare?” Makes it a challenge, but also doesn’t give him a chance to answer. Instead he chooses for him. “Dare! Yeah? That’s great!” Pats Tommy on the back, acting like Tommy had made the choice for himself. The freckled waste of space is eating the attention up.

“I dare you to strip and run around outside.” He gestures with cigarette in hand at the back yard. Some of the girls giggle, Carol laughs and pushes at Tommy, as a couple jocks cheer.

Tommy makes a big show of taking a swing from his flask before standing. Next thing everyone is moving, wanting to get a better view of the backyard, no one wants to miss Tommy making an ass out of himself. Billy hangs back. Tommy starts stripping off his preppy hick clothes. Billy waits, when none of the other kids are looking his way he grabs the rest of the six pack. Billy gives it until Tommy marches outside in his underwear before moving to the basement door. As he leaves he thinks about the promise he made Max, about leaving her friends alone. On account of him being drugged up he doesn’t think that promise counts.

Billy’s life feels like a cage that is too small. It was already too small in California, and now in bumfuck nowhere it’s fucking crushing him. Billy knows that he is cracking, can’t seem to control himself. Steve Harrington’s face is proof enough. Leaves a bad taste in his mouth. It taste like a one way ticket. In California there had been ways to get a break; the drives to LA, the shows, the loud parties. He doesn’t feel like there is an escape here. Nowhere to take his pent up anger, it just keeps rolling back into itself, growing. He’s always on edge.

As soon as they got to Hawkins, Neil had saddled him with Maxine. Made him responsible for her. She is a thirteen year old shitbird, who doesn’t listen, because not listening, never, _never_ costs her a goddamn thing. Doesn’t get her slammed into walls or bruised. Making Billy responsible for Max had been his dad’s way of setting him up for failure. Neil disguised the set up as a lesson in, _Respect _and _Responsibility_. Billy had failed, and it had only taken a week.

Last weekend had been the first time his dad had hit him in front of Susan, breaking some unspoken rule that he foolishly had thought was there. He should have known better. Billy remembers looking at his dad and hating him, felt the cage closing in during the whole lecture.

Billy is out the front door and into the cold night before Harrington. The cold is cutting. His worn leather jacket isn’t doing shit against it. He leans back on the garage door. It keeps him just out of sight. Harrington won’t be able to see him right away. Billy likes when the element of surprise works in his favor. He wonders if it is cold enough to snow. Neither him or Max have ever seen snow. She keeps going on about it. Keeps calling it real snow, like fake snow might be a real thing. Something weathermen use it to fool people. He is just a few drags in on his cigarette when King Steve steps outside.

“Truth or dare?” Billy says it loud and clear into the cold night. “Fuck, this really is a hick town, isn’t it?” he adds.

Steve turns on his heels quick, eyes as big as saucers. Billy, he just smiles, pushes off the garage, closes the distance. Catching Steve alone, and off guard makes his stomach go warm. 

“Fuck, man -” Steve’s breath comes out fast in white puffs. He stands his ground, doesn’t back away as Billy draws closer. “What do you want?” Steve asks. Eyes lingering on Billy’s face. Billy thinks, let him look. 

Billy says around the cigarette he’s got between his lips, “Brrr, so cold pretty boy.” There he goes, calling him pretty again. When he’d called him that in the shower at school the other day, it had felt like a fuck up, now he can’t be bothered to care. Holds up the cardboard beer box with the last few cans in it while saying, “Let’s break bread.” Feels satisfied watching Steve’s face go through a series of expressions before landing on annoyance.

“Yeah, that’s a no. No way, never gonna happen.” Holds Billy’s gaze while he says it. Pretty brown, doe eyes lock on his baby blues. There is a question there, in his eyes. Billy sees it before Harrington turns to walk away. Billy lets him go, watches him walk away, letting the feeling of want roll over himself. 

The other night his dad also told him nothing about his behavior was okay. Nothing about him will ever be good enough. So, why fight it? He’s known for years, before his mom even left, that deep down something is wrong with him. It’s a thing. It’s the wrong in him that can’t leave Steve alone.

On his first day of school Billy had heard about King Steve, and his waining popularity from Tommy and Carol. By the end of third period he had the whole sordid story, down to every gossipy detail. Richie Rich has money to burn, a fancy car, and the family name. Has everything, and his privilege lets him over look all of it. Too stupid, too spoiled. Is throwing it away for an uptight chick, that’s got him pussy whipped.

It left Billy wanting the crown. Then Billy had seen Steve for the first time, and it made him hate Harrington. Because the boy with the slipping crown makes him feel that deep aching wrong.

Billy parked the Camaro behind Harrington’s over priced hunk of metal. When he arrived and saw the Beamer curbside, he had broken out into a smile and laughed to himself at his luck. It meant Harrington had shown up for the party. He walked the couple block to the house thinking maybe tonight was the night he got to bloody his fingers and lick them clean.

He lets Steve get a couple steps in before he starts following. His steps fall heavy, boots hitting the paved walkway, left, right, left, right…It’s a cloudless night, the light from the moon that much brighter because of it. Right, left, right. Billy cans see how rigid the other boy has gone. 

Steve stops in the middle of the street, turns to face him, “ Seriously, dude don’t be a dick, stop following me. Okay?”

Billy smiles takes a step closer, enjoying this way too much. Licks his bottom lip, tongue passing over the healing spilt, “I’m not following you.” Says it slow and relaxed.

Then he walks past an unmoving Harrington, who looks like he is about to say something more but decided against it. Billy can feel his eyes on him as he goes. It takes a couple second before he hears Steve’s lighter steps coming from behind. Counting to ten in his head, Billy slows his pace just a bit, and then a bit more. Hears the other boy slow to a stops. He doesn’t turn around to look, even though he wants to, just keeps staring straight ahead while anticipation pumps in his veins. Billy is having too much fun. It’s fucking good getting to mess with Harrington like this.

Their cars are still a full block away. Billy starts walking at a normal stride again, continues down the middle of the road. He waits until he hears Steve’s foot steps pick back up, counts to ten again, then he stops and turns. Smiles while shaking his head in faked disbelief, “Are you following me, Harrington?” Billy watches as the question lands, and as the other boy takes a moment to work something out in that pretty head of his.

“I’m heading to my car. Let me guess, you’re parked down the next block too.”

Billy, digs into the box he is carrying for a can of beer. Holds it out to him like a prize. Smooth and charming, like they’re old friends, “Bingo amigo.”

Harrington pauses, then reaches for the can, once he takes hold, and has a grip, Billy gives it a little tug, before he lets it go. Their eyes lock. He tells the other boy to, _relax_. Then starts walking again.

A beer being opened at night sounds twice as loud as one being open during the day. The sounds cuts through the air, bouncing off the empty street. Making the night feel extra crisp.

“I’m going to take your crown.” It’s a statement.

“Man, I-it’s - it’s yours. Okay. Take it.” Steve stammers over the words before questioning, “You beat my face in for that, for it?”

Billy corrects him, “I beat your face in because you lied to me.”

Steve shakes his head, “Yeah sure, Hargrove. So you are telling me, if I had been honest, you wouldn’t have gone after the kids, after Lucas?” He voice is heavy with disbelief, “Max was convinced you were going to kill us all.”

They're walking side by side now. Billy’s fist goes tight enough around the beer can to almost crush it. “My dad, he doesn’t want her dating.” His voice sounds rough to his own ears. He leaves out, a kid who is black. His dad has slurs for everyone, every kind of person. If his dad finds out about Max and the Sinclair kid, it will land on him. All of it, his fault. His thoughts goes back to getting violently slammed into the book case and hit in front of Susan. His mind keeps telling him, because it happened once it will happen again. Her being there is no longer a boundary. He rolls his shoulders, like he’s trying to roll off the feeling.

They’ve made it to the end of block.

Steve stops at his car, puts the beer can on the roof and leans against the driver’s side door, one hand in the pocket of his rich boy jacket, jangling the car key. “I’ve changed my mind about the crown, there’s a price for it.”

Billy thinks it is a ballsy fucking move.“Oh, is that so?” He mimics Harrington in stance, leans against the Camaro.

“It’s yours, but that means you have to ease up on Max and Lucas. And, I’ll tell them to keep it quiet for awhile, on account for your dad, or whatever.”

“And what do you personally get out of this arrangement?” Because Billy has to know.

“You off my back. And honestly man, I don’t want to deal with two lovesick kids who are being kept apart. Do you?”

Yeah, when it’s put that way Harrington might have a point. He doesn’t need some Romeo and Juliet situation on his hands. Kids always do the things they are told not to do. Maxine’s got a mind of her own. He doesn’t want to back down, but rock and a hard place. For now he’ll settle. “My dad catches wind of anything going on between them and I’ll be coming for you, Harrington.”

He gives an almost smile back at Billy, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes though. He looks tired. 

“One more thing. Just so we’re clear, the crown, Tommy and Carol, they come with it.” Harrington says in a patronizing mock apologizing tone. This time the smile, it reaches his eyes. He knows that Billy has figured out that the two of them are a waste of space.

Steve runs a hand through his hair. He grabs his beer, takes a sip. The bow of Steve’s upper lip is wide set. It’s that kind of thought that adds fuel to Billy’s fire. All those things he shouldn’t notice. He shouldn’t notice Steve the way he does. The split on his own lips kept opening back up for days. At school he had taken a bite of an apple and it busted right open. Tart and bloody. Billy’s fingers itch to press hard into the soft flesh of Steve’s lips, into that wide bow.

He wants control back, can feel it slipping as the other boy relaxes into their exchange. Thinks about the party and Harrington's far away look. Turning mean has become his default state of being. It usually get him where he needs to be. “Truth or dare, Harrington?” He asks, corner of his mouth pulling up into a sneer. 

“Shit man, you don’t know when to quit do you?” The look of annoyance it back. He sets the beer back down.

He pushes a bit more, “That house was covered in drawings. I want you to tell me why.” It’s the right dig can see it in Harrington’s eyes.

“The kid was missing in the woods for days. He likes to - draw. I don’t know, it helps. Like therapy. Okay?” He looks away as he says it. 

Another lie. Billy feels the anger in him rising up. “Helps what?”

Harrington is searching, reaching for an answer, Billy can feel it. He cuts him off before he can figure out another lie, “See Harrington, from what I heard those drawings were suppose to be for some school project about mapping or some shit. Not zombie boy’s therapeutic needs. Your - _ex_ girlfriend was suppose to take Maxine and the other kids home after their little school project meet up. Only, gosh - darn - it” he snaps his finger like he is out of luck, and then licks his teeth.“They got a flat tire on a back road, had to wait until help came along.”…

~~~~~~~

Oh, shit!

The cover story. The one Hopper and Mrs. Byers came up with. The one they all agreed to. The one Hopper fed to Max’s mom and Billy’s dad. Jesus, this isn’t his night. He has to get Billy off the subject, right now! Can’t let him poke holes in it. Mind racing, it stumbles over the thought of derailing Billy with a question. Try and turn the tables on him. There is the question, the one that has been making noise in his mind for days.

Steve points to his own lip while asking, “Who did that to your face?” The words come out smooth, Billy follows the movement with his eyes. Steve adds the truth “We both know it wasn’t me, man.” Steve feels like he delivered a one-two punch. Judging by the look on Billy’s face he’s not wrong.

“Fuck you, Harrington!” Billy throws his beer can. The sound of it hitting the pavement echo into the night and the smell of spilt beer hits the cold air.

Steve remembers how to do this, be an asshole. The same asshole who ran his mouth at Jonathan that day in the alley is still inside Steve. He can conjure him up. That exchange ended with him getting his ass kicked by Jonathan. He is probably going to get his ass kicked again. Steve pushes ahead caring less and less about the out come, “Who’d you pick a fight with, man? Did you make a mess out of their face like you did mine? Was it worth? Oh wait, I know, I know, maybe someone taught you a les-”

“_I didn’t touch him_.” Billy’s voice is as sharp as a knife and sounds like an open wound

He comes closer. Pain. Steve thinks he sees pain in Billy’s eyes. Anger too, so much of it. Feels a knot form in his stomach. This wasn’t the response he was expecting. 

“ - - W - What?” He hears the confusion in his own voice.

Billy takes a step and then another. Steve moves with his movement until his back hits the Beamer.

“You don’t fucking know me, Harrington.” Billy says it low and mean. 


	2. Meet Me at the Quarry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another un-betaed chapter. I've read over it so many times. Hopefully I've caught everything and it makes some sort of sense. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read the first chapter. I hope you like this one and the direction I'm taking the story.

Checking on Dustin isn’t totally a selfless act, Steve needs a distraction, specially after last night. After the run in with Billy.

“When you’re done on your end, you always, and I mean, always, have to say, _over_.”

Dustin has been showing Steve how use the radio he just picked up at Radio Shack.

Steve never met Bob Newby. It didn’t matter though, he had wanted to tell the guy helping him pick out the radio that Bob Newby helped to save the world. It was a stupid thought. Outside of the party no one is going to know what the hell they’ve all been through. It’s a weird feeling. It makes him feel both like he is part of something, and all alone at the same time too. All the people he use to be close with, like Tommy and Carol, will never know. His own parents don’t really know, but that’s because they really don’t want to. Monsters from another dimension would be an inconvenience for them, even ones that almost killed their son and his friends. He misses Nancy, wishes she was around like she had been the first time.

They’ve already put batteries in the radio and have gone over how to switch channels. Steve is having an alright time. It helps that hanging out with Dustin is keeping his mind off of everything. Plus he instantly felt comfortable in the Henderson house. Warm and lived in, it’s different than his own home. When he showed up Mrs. Henderson was in the kitchen putting together a casserole. The casserole must be in the oven now, because there is a home cooked meal smell making its way into Dustin’s room.

Steve likes Dustin’s bedroom better than his own. Unlike his room it actually feels like it belongs to a kid. His mom had redecorated his bedroom, three years ago, it had been a surprise for his birthday. She decorated it like she thought he went to board meetings and not homeroom at eight in the morning. The bed spread he is sitting on is space themed, the wallpaper behind him has cowboy boots and cacti printed on it. The clashing themes would make his mom cringe and she would think the E.T. figurine is _absolutely tacky_.

He has to wonder if this makes him a nerd, the former king of Hawkins spending his Sunday afternoon hanging out with a kid who knows what a pollywog is. Has he reached nerd territory? Better yet, does he even care at this point?

Dustin interrupts his thoughts,“Max is going to need a radio too.”

“Oh yeah, yeah sure.” Steve had pushed Hargrove out of his mind until now. Dustin starts in with a plan on how they can help her get a one. Steve nods along, mind drifting.

_"You don’t fucking know me, Harrington_._"_

_"I didn’t touch him."_

Billy is right he doesn’t, know him, not really. Steve had tossed and turned in his bed for most of last night. The rattle in his brain going strong. So what, had Billy just stood around and let someone use his face as punching bag? It doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone, specially Billy, stand there and let someone throw punches at them without fighting back?

It wasn’t just pain and anger in Billy’s voice there had been shame there too. The longer Steve goes over it the more he thinks he got some sort of confession out of Hargrove. In a way he had asked for it, hadn’t he? Now what was he suppose to do?

Last night he stood face to face with Billy. Both of them breathing heavily out into the night, between them taking up space had been Billy’s words and Steve’s confusion. Before it could go any further a pair of bright headlights cut through the moment. Billy had swung around fast, took one sidestep and was leaning against the Beamer right next to Steve before his brain could even catch up. The sidestep hadn’t been big enough, the sleeves of their jackets ended up touching. It was a stupid thing to notice but Steve had. It was a truck that had been coming down the road at them. The approaching vehicle felt out of place in the quiet and cold night. 

Hopper. It had to be Hopper who had broken up whatever shit was happening between the two of them. Headlights lighting up the night. The Chief’s truck rolled to a stop beside them, with Hop leaning over the passenger seat to get a better view, window down, a finger pointed at them. Listen up, Mrs. Crosley from a few blocks down, called the station, she’s real up set. Says there was a streaker running through her yard. Also got a call from Larry Roth, saying the same thing. The two of you know anything about this? His finger still pointed had moved between them accusingly. Steve remembers Hopper looked tired. Like he hadn’t seen his own bed in a week. Steve hadn’t wanted to think about what he was having to do to keep the whole post Upside Down situation under control. Also didn’t want to think about how Billy had just been asking too many questions. 

Beside him Billy had piped up first. _"__Did a - dear old Mrs. Crosley or Larry, have a more detailed description of the guy?"_ It had lacked the true assholery Steve knew Billy could deliver. Like he was just as shaken as Steve was by their exchange and couldn’t rise to the occasion and be his usual asshole self. Still Steve had looked to his side to shoot him a warning glance but Billy’s eyes had been on ground.

In the end Hopper didn’t have any patience for Hargrove being a smart-ass and had set him on his way with a, _"__This is a free pass, you get it one time. Don’t make me regret doing you a favor."_

Billy has gone, acted like Steve didn’t even exist. Hadn’t said another word to him. Didn’t even look Steve’s way as he left. 

In the dark of the night Hopper had missed the empty beer box Billy had set down by the Camaro, but he hadn’t missed the can on the roof of the Beamer. Used it as an excuse to keep Steve behind.

There had been a couple questions about what he and Billy had been doing. Steve hadn’t really been able to answer them. He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure what to call their exchange. He had changed the conversation by asking about dropping by Dustin’s. Hopper had given him the okay, _"__ Just do me a favor, don’t get into any trouble kid. I’d like a peaceful Sunday."_

When Steve had finally fallen asleep it had been in the early hours of the morning. His dreams were of the cold dark tunnels and being lost in them without his bat. He woke up this morning freezing cold found he kicked the sheets clean off the bed. Like he had been running in his sleep…

“_Steve?_ Earth to Steve.”

He jolts, realizes he’s been zoning out, eyes fixed on the shiny black radio in his hand. Dustin is looking at him like he is a caveman holding a telephone for the first time. Shit.

“Yeah, Yeah, I got it. It’s _over_, right?”

Dustin give him a big grin, “Okay, good. You’re with me. Thought I had l lost there.”

“Say man, the batteries for this thing, how long do they last?” With the question he tries to cover up how badly he had been spacing out.

Steve stays for lunch, tuna noodle casserole fresh out of the oven. The first time Steve met Dustin’s mom was the night Will had been found. It was in the waiting room at the hospital. She had arrived shortly after Will had woken up. Mrs. Henderson took time to talk to everyone in the waiting room including Steve. _"__It was so nice of you to stay. Do your parents know you're here? I’m sure they are worried about you. I think I have some change in my purse you can use for the payphone_._"_ Steve likes her. He doesn’t mind doing her a favor, and before leaving the Henderson house he agrees to pick Dustin up from school on Wednesday, after AV club, and bring him home. He is a pretty good babysitter after all. 

Car keys in hand, Steve is about to get in his car when Mike, Lucas, and Max show up. The boys on their bikes and Max on her skateboard. No Will though. He is not surprised, from what Dustin explained Mrs. Byers had kept him home from school all of last week. 

“Fancy seeing you three here.” He calls out as they roll up.

They keep the exchange to small talk. He tells the three of them he knows how use a radio now. Points at himself and says, _like a pro_. At that he gets doubtful looks from all three, and a smart-ass comment from Mike.

Mike Wheeler is a pain in the ass. In this moment that fact and that fact alone wins over how much he misses Nancy. It makes the thought of not having dinners at the Wheeler house anymore hurt a little less too. Before Steve can tell the kid to fuck off, Dustin is at the front door yelling for everyone to,_ get inside already._

The boys leave their bikes on the front lawn. Max carries her stakeboard, has it under one arm. She is not going to leave it outside. It clicks in Steve’s head, families like the Sinclairs and Wheelers can replace a stollen bike, not that a bike would get stollen in this part of Hawkins. Max’s family probably couldn’t afford to replace a stolen skateboard as easily.

\- _Maybe he could ask Max._ Last week’s thought comes back to him. Before she can go inside the house Steve calls her back, “Hey um, Max, can I have a second?” Lucas pauses with her on the front step. Steve shuts the car door and makes his way back to the curb. She looks at Lucas, a silent communication happens between them. She nods an okay, and before he goes inside she hands him her skateboard. If the two of them aren’t dating already Steve is sure they will be soon.

Max makes her way down the front lawn and back to Steve, wearing a skeptical look the entire way. 

“So, how’s everything?” He asks.

“Everything is as good as it was two seconds a go.” She says it slow, like he might be stupid. “Is there something you want?” She fists her hands inside of her sweatshirt pockets, the gesture clearly defensive. 

“Yeah, so -” Steve isn’t even sure what he wants to ask or where to start. The clutter in his mind rattles along. Max is looking at him expectantly… “Does - so does your stepdad know you’re here?” It just comes out. The tone of his voice sounds like he is questioning his own choice of question. He cringes at it little bit.

He knows right away it is the wrong question. Her eyebrow draw together as her shoulders pull up. “Neil is an asshole.” She spits it out. Steve hears the hate clear as day in her voice, and sees a hard, but helpless look in her eyes.

They just met last week but he would never describe her as helpless. Not Max. Not the girl that stole Billy’s Camaro so she could take Steve and the other kids on a joyride. She drove them to those creepy death tunnels without a second thought. She is brave and tough. But the look is there and Steve can’t ignore it. 

He tries to recover, with hands raised in defeat he tries to smooth it over, “Hey, hey, no. Max, I’m Sorry. Listen…”

She shakes her head, red hair moving side to side. She takes a couple steps backwards while telling him she’s going inside. She turns away without saying anything else, and stomps off. He is left standing there, watching her go with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Steve has the feeling that something isn’t right. 

Steve gets home to find his mom has crashed back into his life. He pushes the conversation with Max out of his mind. It’s an easy push. There are random people is the house, taking the furniture from the guest bedroom to a truck that is parked out front. While others bring in long cardboard boxes. His mom greets him and asks how he is, okay seems to be enough of an answer for her. She moves on to explain why the furniture is being hauled away, informs him she is having a the guest bedroom re-wallpapered and the old bedroom furniture won’t go. The wallpaper is hand painted and all the way from Japan. Like he cares. He wants to go back to Dustin’s house. To a house that is warm and lived in and not just a decoration. He wants the distraction he knows will come with being around the shitheads. Wants to be distracted from pretty much everything in his life at this point. 

~~~~~~~

Billy parks the Camaro and heads straight into the main building, finishing his smoke on the way. There is no basketball after school, and Billy is counting on not running into Harrington. They don’t have classes together and he is pretty sure Tommy said something about Harrington’s locker being at the other side of the main building.

Billy didn’t go home Saturday night after Chief Hopper told him to get lost. Fuck the Chief and his favor. Instead Billy had driven for a couple hours, angry and soaked in self hatred. Keeping time with the music he had blasting he slammed his palms against the steering wheel until they had gone numb. Trying to keep Harrington, and how badly he had fucked up out of his head. 

Today his body aches. He paid for staying out late. His dad had laid into him for getting home an hour after curfew. Made Billy sleep in Camaro, also made sure to take his keys so he couldn’t leave. It had only been one fucking hour, but then things have been getting worse with his dad. A bad day at work for Neil is a bad day at home for Billy. That’s been the equation for a long time. It had been the same in California, but here in the middle of fucking nowhere, all the days are bad days.

Neil had waited up for him. He must have had another extra shitty day at work and really needed to blow off some steam. Billy coming home late only added to it. The front door opened as soon as Billy pulled in. Neil came slowly out of the house, calm and collected, into the dark of the night. Billy couldn’t bring himself to move, his heart raced. He’s never been able to control it, even though he always knows what is coming, his heartbeat kicks up every time. Thudding in his ears.

His dad’s knuckles had tapped on the glass of the driver's side window, _"__Open the door, son."_ Said it like he was asking Billy to pass the salt at the dinner table. It made Billy shiver, like someone had just walked over his grave. He did open the door, there wasn’t any point in not, would have only made his dad that much angrier. Neil had pulled him from the Camaro by the neck of his jacket, slammed him against the cold hard metal of the car. Only once, but with force. Made it count. Didn’t given Billy any time to catch his breath before giving two brutal punches to his side. Then he delivered a lecture, _"__I_ _did not move this family across the country for you to continue to behave in this way. You will not ruin this. Do you understand me? I said, Do you understand?" _ Billy had breathed through the pain to grunt out his two most hated words, _Yes_ and _Sir._ After the lecture he shoved Billy back in the car, told him he could sleep there. His dad took the keys with him. He woke the next morning freezing cold and worn thin.

Billy stays by his locker, flicking his lighter open and closed. His class is across the hall, but he isn’t ready to go in yet. It is Monday morning, and every kid is in a hurry as they pass by, like they can’t quite catch up with the start of the week. Down the hallway he sees the princess, binder and books piled in her arms. Her newest choice of suitor, Quasimodo, is right beside her. Their eyes are locked on each other, all lovey dovey, not noticing anyone but themselves. It’s sickening. 

Billy has been in that freak’s house. The memory is jumbled, he remembers all those weird ass drawings, but mostly he remembers Harrington. Pretty boy was the last person he wanted to see. His dad had called him a faggot that night, it wasn’t the first time. His dad calls him a faggot like it’s a warning. Like of all the things Billy is he better not be that. He didn’t need Harrington to be there that night, a pretty reminder of his ugly want, one of the many things that is wrong with him. 

Billy barley had any freedom in California, but there had been enough to feel out his wants. The kind of release that satisfies him, he has only found with guys. He found it after shows, in alleyways, and drunken bathroom encounters at parties. He only needs two hands to count all of those times up, but it’s enough for him to know what he is. He’s pushed more than one guy to their knees to get his cock sucked, and had them go willingly as he made promises of never telling their girlfriend. He thinks if he plays his cards right he could get there with King Steve too. 

There is no freedom here in this cow shit town. He is caged in and starving. Steve Harrington, fallen king of Hawkins fucking High, the prettiest boy Billy has ever seen, makes his mouth flood with saliva. He is the best cut of meat Billy has ever seen. Even the boys back home don’t compare. Billy wants him raw. Had wanted to push and pick even after the encounter at the Byers kid’s house. Wanted to tear the other boy down is every way. Billy had thought, why not crash and burn? Push the other boy, see how far he could take it, but Saturday night he’d fucked it up.

Saturday night. What he told Harrington, if he could he would shove the words back into his mouth with his own fists and choke on them. He told Harrington the fucking truth, and he doesn’t know why.

_I didn’t touch him_.

Billy isn’t thirteen anymore, isn’t a scrawny snot nosed kid. Puberty had come around, and lifting wights had helped add bulk to his already growing frame. He’s a lady killer now, even if he doesn’t like the ladies. Makes him feel powerful though, getting to play that game and win. Moms, teachers, and dumb high school girls falling all over themselves for him. They’re notches on his belt even if he doesn’t fuck them.

To Billy his muscle is power. He enjoys how it makes people take note of him and listen when he speaks. If someone has a problem with him, he can always answer with a fist.

Not his dad though, it doesn’t matter, all of it goes out the window, he doesn’t hit back.Only ever did one time. It had been the week of his dad and Susan’s wedding. Billy had been angry about Neil getting married. Started mouthing off about, like he couldn’t help himself, like he didn’t know better. Even though he knew his mom had abandoned him. Knew it was her choice to leave and not take him with her. It had been easier to blame his dad than to be mad at her for it. He had tried for a pathetically long time to keep her as some kind of saint in his memories. Wanted there to be one good thing in his life. He is too old to lie to himself about her now.

It had just been him and his dad living together in the house a couples blocks from the beach. Neil, always the man of values hadn’t wanted to live with Susan before they got married, _It would set a bad example for the kids._ That one time happened in the kitchen. Billy kept mouthing off. Started going on about how dumb it was to have a wedding. He’s pretty sure he told his dad, Susan didn’t need to wear white, cause she wasn’t a virgin, or something like that. Neil had grabbed him by his shoulders, started shaking him so hard that to this day Billy swears he had felt his brain move like Jell-O in his skull. Panicked, he had hit at his dad with both fists. Neil had grabbed one of his wrist in a death grip, it made Billy struggle ugly and wild, pulled back hard to get away. He lost his footing when Neil had yanked him forward. The perfect combination of moves to snap a bone in his arm. 

Neil told the doctor Billy had fallen while roughhousing with the neighborhood kids. Susan had believed the same story too, had’t even batted an eye as Neil told it to her. The perfect fucking story. Billy didn’t try telling anyone what his dad had done. Who would have believed a piece of shit kid like him? No one was going to listen. The cast stayed on for six weeks, and turned an ugly dirty white. It had been four maybe five months before his dad laid a hand on him again. It must have happened during a weekend cause both Susan and Max were out of the house. He had gotten back handed for mouthing off. It had hurt in a different way, a worse way than the broken arm. It had shocked him into silence. 

The bell rings. Billy pushes off his locker and makes his way to the open door on the other side of the hallway. Science class, the room smells like a couple months worth of kids fucking up projects, and their grades along with them. More than one science experiment has gone horribly wrong in this room. The teacher keeps the door open on account of the smell. Billy got the prized seat in class by flirting with some blonde chick for it, it's the one closes to the door. Side aching, he tries to make himself comfortable. Under the desk he kicks out his feet while leaning back in his chair, it give him a good view of the hallway.

_Harrington._

It lets him see Harrington coming down the hallway. His heart starts beating harder. Lets him see the moment the other boy notices him sitting there in the classroom. His pace slowing to a stop. Doe eyes are dark and serious, searching Billy's for something. Billy is frozen, he can’t look away and neither can the other boy. _"__Max was convinced you were going to kill us all_._"_ Next to his own words, those are the ones that keep coming back for him. To haunt him. Like he might be more like his father than he ever wants to think he is.

That night at the freak’s house, if Billy had pushed his mouth against Steve’s it wouldn’t have felt any different than punching him had. There was anedge and he started going off of it. It used to feel good, knocking someone down. It was a rush. What he did to Harrington, the way he lost control, it makes Billy feel sick. He’s not sure he would have stopped. Max had been there though, to stop him, but there is no one here now. Nothing here to stop the dirty thoughts that rise up a long with the shame. It all spills over. Fuck everything, burn it down. Billy wants to take Steve apart with his firsts, and with his mouth, and tongue. Wants to make him cry. Would lick his tears up, and then lick into his mouth. Make Harrington taste his own salt. Nothing else exists but Steve Harrington.

A teacher from somewhere farther down the hall yells, “Mr. Harrington! Get - to - class.” The moment shatters. Steve breaks eye contact to acknowledge the yelling teacher. Billy turns his attention back to the front of the room, quick, like he just touched a hotplate. Stares straight ahead, swallows a couple times like he can swallow down what’s burning up his mind and body. Feels Harrington’s eyes on him one more time, and then he is gone.

Billy want him as much as he need to stay away from him. Rock and a hard place. He’s goddamn fucked. 

~~~~~~

When Steve gets home from school on Monday his mom is there. The kitchen table has been taken over by oversized carpet sample books. Steve pushes everything Billy and Upside Down out of his mind. Puts on his game face.

He finds her in the kitchen pan frying a steak on the gas range. Glass of red wine in one hand and a fork in the other, poking at the slab of meat with it. Steve got his head of hair from her. Her’s isn’t dark anymore like his is. Since her fortieth birthday she’s been a blonde, goes to the beauty salon like every other week. His dad always says she is the most beautiful women in the world. Steve is pretty sure his dad use to mean it too. Now he just says it, doesn’t sound like it means anything to him anymore. He isn’t sure what makes his parents happy, he doesn’t know if they do either. He had liked to think that him and Nancy could have escaped a similar fate, but his parents probably thought the same thing when they were his age. He keeps thinking how depressing that is.

“I ran into Karen Wheeler at the store.” She says, tone balanced.

Jesus, she is only in Hawkins for two days but of course she runs into Nancy’s mom. That’s just great. Steve knows despite his mom’s tone that she is frustrated with him. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your break up with Nancy. You could have said something about it. Your father and I always liked her. The Wheelers are a good family.” She flips the steak over, its hisses in the pan.

Steve runs and hand through his hair. In the year that he and Nancy dated his parents had seen her a grand total of seven times, maybe. He tries to think of an answer that’s not that. 

She looks at him as she takes a sip of wine, “You need your hair cut, it’s getting too long.” The conversation has changed. Thank god.

“Sure, I’ll go to the barber, on Saturday.”He won’t. It won’t matter. She leaves for Chicago tomorrow. Here and gone.

“I know the prospect of working for your father isn’t the most exciting,” Steve should have known this was coming. “He and I have discussed it. We think to start you might like working under one of the junior partners. That way you will feel like you are making more of a name for yourself and not just getting by on your father’s history with the company.” She lets the cooked steak sit and cool while she brings two baked potato out of the oven. Steve avoids saying anything more than, _yeah_, _sure,_ and _okay_ by making himself useful, he grabs the butter and streak sauce out of the refrigerator.

That’s how they eat dinner. The two of them standing at the counter, a baked potato and half a steak each. The steak is perfectly done. He can’t ever remember his mom baking, no home made birthday cakes or cookies to bring to class. Nothing like that, but her steaks are always perfect. He thinks that’s got to say something about her.

She picks up the conversation with the same pleasant, but dry tone as before, “Hal, the junior partner you would be working with, can’t be more than seven years older than you. I imagine you should be able to get along with him. Oh, his wife has two younger sister, both very pretty and bright. I believe the youngest is your age.”

For a second he entertains the idea of making small talk about the demo-dogs that over ran the lab. Instead he keeps his mouth full so he can just nod his way through the conversation. Tells himself less than forty-eight hours of clueless parenting and then she will be gone. 

The blue glow from the swimming pool filters up to Steve’s room. It keeps him awake tonight like it does on other nights too. A soft glow reminding him nothing is really safe. It needs to be drained soon for the winter. He rolls over onto his stomach with a flop. Pulls the sheets all the way over his head. He kind of tried to find Billy at school today. Both wanting to run into him and not. He thought seeing Billy might give him an answer to that feeling he got while talking with Max the other day. The _something isn’t right _feeling.

While waiting for first period to start he had wandered the halls. Found Billy when he thought he wouldn’t. Sitting in a classroom, eyes already on him.He - he what? Looked hungry? No, that’s not right. Not at first, at first his look had been hard, or on edge, and then it had changed. Whatever it was, Steve knows it made his stomach twist, and that he replayed it over and over in his mind for the rest of the school day. And he is doing it now. Just lets it play looping around and around.

Steve and Billy dance around each other during basketball practice on Tuesday anddo it again today. All the sudden Steve doesn’t exist. It is like Billy has never seen or heard of Steve Harrington. It gives Steve whiplash. Monday, he felt like Billy had taken him apart with his eyes. The last two days? Nothing. Not that Billy hasn’t been mouthing off, he has, just not at Steve. He started yelling at Allen today, telling the other kid to watch his elbows. It had escalated until at the end of practice Coach had made Billy run a couple laps to cool off. Billy must have taken more than a couple laps though, because Steve sees Billy when he is leaving the gym to go pick up Dustin. Billy is still running, shirt soaked and made dark with sweat. The kids should be done with AV club soon so Steve keeps moving.

The towel drying he gave his hair doesn’t cut it. Half way to his car, his hair starts to freeze in the cold. He pats his pockets as he goes, only no keys. Not in the pockets of his jacket or jeans. Jesus, they must of fallen out in his gym locker. The walk back feels twice as long and even colder, the sun doing nothing to warm the day.

When Steve gets back to the gym he is relieved to find it is empty. He pushes through the locker room door, it makes a quiet _whooshing_ noise as it closes behind him. Rounding the corner that leads to the lockers, he stops soundlessly in his tacks when he catches sight of Billy. Mind comes to a halt too, only with a jumble of loud thoughts. Thoughts that don’t connect and some that run together, all happening at the same time. He has a side view of Billy standing, towel slung low on his hips, with his head bent forward to rest on one of the lockers. He has his eyes closed, steam clings to his skin, curls pulled long, wet, and dripping. Without his permission Steve’s eyes travel lower, like he wants to look. Billy’s skin is still California tan. He is built thick, mostly muscle, something Steve has noticed before. Low on Billy’s side are two clearly defined black and blue marks. Steve’s eyes stop their downward travel. The confusion he feels for wanting to look fades, is replaced by the _something isn’t right_ feeling. The same feeling he got when he tried to talk to Max the other day. It takes over. Bits of an ugly picture start to come together in his head. _Neil is an asshole _echoes in his head. 

When Steve drags his eyes back up Billy is looking at him from under his eyelashes, head still resting on the locker but now turned towards him.

Oh Shit.

Steve opens and closes his mouth a couple times, can’t find his voice, isn’t sure what to say. Billy speaks before he can gather his thoughts. Straightens up, drops his head back and looks Steve dead in the eye, voice packing its own punch, “Get Out.” he growls, eyes a blaze.

Steve brain trips over itself, he is pretty sure he said the same thing to Billy at the Byers’ house. Had pushed two fingers against his chest while saying it. Steve’s eyes are back down to the bruises. Wanting to ask about them. He’s not sure he can ask without getting his face punched in. 

“ I - My car keys, I - I - I think they’re in my locker.” Stammers like the idiot he is. Fuck.

Billy knows which gym locker is Steve’s. It’s weird to know the other boy knows which one of the lockers is his. Steve had watched an angry and half naked Billy stomp straight to it, throw open the metal door, and then throw the keys at him with a, _"__Get The Fuck Out, Harrington!"_ Steve had booked it out of there, _"__I’m going, I’m going!" _His mind moving even faster than his feet. 

There is no more waiting, Steve needs to talked to Max. Has to do it now. Might be able to catch her her before the nerds are done with AV club. Ten minutes ago the distance from the school to his car felt like it took forever. Now, he is in the driver’s seat in like two seconds flat. Heart pounding.

Max is on her own, standing off to the side of the main entrance for the junior high building. Steve checks his watch, he has ten maybe fifteen minutes before the nerds are done. This morning there had been a thick layer of frost, Max is without her skateboard must be beach of it. Head down and arms crossed over herself, she looks lost in her own world. Steve rolls down his window, calls to her from where he’s parked, then leans across the passenger seat to throw open the door, signaling her to get in.

It’s not like Max can ignore him. She is weary as she makes her approach, like she hasn’t forget about their very awkward, very short talk on Sunday. Climbs into the passenger side with a, “Hey.” Looks at him like she might know what is coming. It doesn’t make it any easier, though.

He knows now what he was trying to ask her the other day. Both hands hold onto the steering wheel like it might do something to stabilize him,“Are - is. Is everything okay at home?”

Red hair catching in the bright light of the cold day as she turns. She sits there like she’s fighting herself on whether or not to say something. Steve watches, trying to read her expression, he doesn’t want to push her, but there is only so much time until the other kids show up. He offers, “Max, if something is going on you can tell me, and if you want I won’t say anything to anyone else.”

Her eyes lock with his. Her eyebrow knitted and lips pursed. She turns away and finally, “You promise?”

He’ll think about the promise he is about to make her later because he needs to know now, “Yeah, of course. You know there is this saying I’ve heard. Something about how friends don’t lie to each other. If something is going on you can can tell me. Okay?”

“What if I don’t know where to start?” Shit, she sounds young. It hits a nerve, they’re all young. Even Billy is young. Steve feels like he is in over his head, wishes Mrs. Byers or Mrs. Henderson was here right now.

He tries for calm and reassuring, “You can start where you need to.”

Max fiddles with the straps of her backpack that she has in her lap. She swallows like she trying to push back tears, and then looks at him. It’s a look that makes him feel really helpless, way out of his depths, a stumbling mess.

He knows what is coming. He already knows the shape - outline of it, just maybe not the color that fills it in. 

“Billy - he had a broken arm at my mom and Neil’s wedding.” Her voice is dry, hushed.

Jesus. Fuck. Steve feels sick, like really, really sick. All those bruises, black, blue, purple and yellow. Jesus Christ. Billy has been here for what? Like three week? And he’s been wearing bruises for two out of the three.

Max continues, “He - Neil, said Billy got it roughhousing with the neighbor kids.” She doesn’t have to say the actual words, he knows what she is saying.

“Max-“

“I believed him, My mom believed him.” There is anger in her voice as her words pick up speed. “And - and - there are like all these other times. I should have know! ”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, Max, this isn’t your fault.” He tries to stop her from going down the rabbit hole of blaming herself. Holds a hand up like it might slower her down.

“You don’t understand!When Billy got home the morning after El closed the gate, Neil sent my mom and me out, he made us go to the store. When we got back Billy - Neil had…”

Oh god.

_I didn’t touch him._

He doesn’t hit back when his father beats him. The realization lands like a punch.

After the gate was closed there had been a scramble to get loose ends taken care of. Two of those loose ends had been the need to get Billy out of the Byers’ house, and Max back home before it got any later. The planning and cover story had come together quickly. The Camaro with a still sedated Billy in it had been dumped at the high school by Jonathan. Hopper had picked him up after he had driven Max home.

Hopper had fed the Hargroves the cover story. Max had been over at the Byers’ house working on a school project. Nancy had picked up Mike and offered to take Max home, on their way the car got a flat tire. Hopper came across them a little later and helped to fix the flat. None of them knew how to change a car tire so it wasn’t a far stretch. Hopper offered to take Max home for Nancy on account of how late it had gotten. They all had been banking on Hopper being able to sell the story to Mr. and Mrs. Hargrove because who would question the chief of police? All the same, just to be on the safe side and make sure the deal was sealed, Nancy had called Mrs. Hargrove the next morning to apologize for any confusion or concern.

They had just left Billy there, at the school all night. No one had given him a second thought. What would it matter if he didn’t come home until the next morning?

“Billy’s arm, how old was he when it happened?” Steve goes back to that because he has to know. His palms are sweaty, has a clammy hold on the steering wheel.

“Around my age.” Her voice is quiet as she turns away. Hair untucks from behind her ear creating a red curtain. He can’t see her face. The other questions forming in his brain are cut short. Steve hears the Camaro. Eyes dart up to his rear view mirror, he sees it approaching fast. Shit, shit, shit. Billy is heading for the parking spot next to him. 

Max turns around in her seat, gives Steve a wide eyed, _Oh No_ look. 

“Stay here!”

Steve is out of the Beamer and around the front of the car, taking long strides to reach the Camaro before Billy can open the driver side door. Palms landing with a thud on the blue metal, pushes the opening door closed. Puts his weight into it so Billy can’t open the door. His fingers curling over where the window would be if it wasn’t rolled down. There is no glass separating them. Steve is looking down into Billy’s blue eyes, can see red rage in them.

“What the fuck!” Billy gives the door a hard shove and Steve pushes back, keeping it closed. Billy is loud and angry. “You’re so dead, Harrington!” 

All the sudden Billy takes a fist full of his jacket and uses it to pull him down. Making them more level. Almost eye to eye. Steve doesn’t give up his grip on the door.

Billy lets out an angry hiss as he twists his fist tighter in the fabric tighter, leans up and into Steve's face. Nostrils flare as he asks, “I want to know what the fuck yo-"

Steve cuts him off, “I’m taking the kids home, that includes Max, and then you and I are going to talk. Meet me at the quarry in an hour. Okay?”

Billy’s eyes are searching his, disbelief cutting through anger. Steve’s stomach knots up, “Do you know where the quarry is or not ?” he asks in a rush. Billy is sneering at him in confusion.

Max’s breaks the moment by smacking the glass of the passenger side window. She is point towards the school. Gets their attention to turn to Dustin and Lucas who just walked out the front door of the building.

“Yes or no, Billy?” Steve asks it quick, like his life depends on it.

“Yes”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a good time to mention, for the purpose of the story I'm ignoring the third season of the show. Kind of like Ted Wheeler ignores a ringing doorbell.


	3. Real Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks to everyone who has been reading this story. There will be increasing sexual content as it continues. It starts in this chapter.  
I did a quick clean up of the first two chapters to get a better flow. Nothing too different just the littlest bit of rewriting to smooth things out. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S Unbetaed

The sun is going down, and shadows are cast long on the ground. Steve is waiting on Billy. This isn’t the first time he’s waited on him showing up. He did it last week too, and that’s how this whole thing started. Steve really didn’t want to be the first to arrive at the quarry. Even with going out of his way to drop Max off first, taking the kids home hadn’t wasted as much time as he hoped it would. It’s been over an hour since Billy peeled out of the middle school’s parking lot leaving Steve in the dust, and having to answer way too many questions from Dustin and Lucas. Max had stayed quiet for the whole ride. The two boys didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in wanting to know why the hell Steve had been talking to, _that psycho_. He had only half listened to all of their questions. His mind had been a jumble of everything, the whole big mess, how involved he has gotten. Billy’s dad hits him, there is a monster in the Byers house, to Steve they’re the same thing, kind of. Close enough. There is part of Steve that always gets himself in deep, that can’t walk away. The part that made him turn around and go back into the Byers’ house. That part of him has him out here waiting on Billy. He doesn’t even know what to call it. 

Steve drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Billy might not show and then what? Being out here as the day looses light is making him feel uneasy. Like he needs to keep his eyes out for more than just Billy’s arrival. The bat is still in his trunk. He would have to get out of his car to get it, so it stays where it is. One sleepless night last week he thought about making another one to keep in the house. Probably not a bad idea. Maybe he could do that this weekend or next. Ask Jonathan for help. Steve thinks maybe doesn’t need to be avoiding Jonathan and Nancy like he has. Not that he and Byers were ever close, but he could make an effort, or something. 

Steve hears the crunch of gravel and the roar of an engine signaling Billy’s arrival. The rearview mirror framing his approach. Steve’s heart is in his throat. He looks down to zip up his jacket, giving himself something to do. This is why he didn't want to be the first to arrive, it's going to be hard to play it cool after getting worked up from waiting. He hears the engine of the Camaro turn off and the car door slam shut. Eyes still down Steve makes sure the zipper is all the way up before getting out.

Billy is right there, having moved way faster than him. When Steve steps out of his car he is face to face with the other boy. For one deep drawn in breath there is silence between them. It stretches out feeling to long and then disappears all too quickly. 

Billy speaks first, voice dangerous, “So Harrington, first I catch you _eyeing me_ in the locker room, and then I find my sister in the car with you.” Billy licks his teeth and leans closer, “I’m curious, what exactly it is you think you’re doing?”

Steve wants to say he wasn’t eyeing him like that, the way Billy’s voice suggests. Boys don’t look at each other like that. _Do they?_ Wants to tell Billy that he is way off base, but instead feels the heat of an embarrassing blush burn his cheeks.

“We need to talk. Alright?” And Steve, he needs to stay calm and get his head screwed on right.

“Talk about what, King Steve? How you were spying on me? Did you like what you saw?” Billy takes another step. Steve knows the answer, but tries to block it from his mind, lets his eyes drop down. They are almost toe to toe. So close. Billy is a field of land mines, dangerous terrain. How is Steve suppose to get through to him?

He doesn’t want it to be this complicated, “I’m not here to fight you, man.” Says it with honesty that he hopes comes through in his voice. 

Billy takes the last step he needs to have Steve backed against the Beamer, the door handle presses into his lower back. Steve tries searching his eyes, but it’s like a dead end. Like Billy is maybe not really there. In one of Steve’s classes, don’t ask him which one, they talked about trauma, about war vets who came back from Vietnam. Out here in the cold with Billy that memory seems relevant to him.

Steve thinks it’s now or never. He came here with a purpose. Heart racing, he find the words, “I think those bruises you always have, that you get them at home. I think your dad hits you.” Those words feel impossibly heavy coming off his tongue at a sluggish pace.

And Billy. Billy is out of Steve’s personal space fast, backs away, thumbs his nose and flashes a mean smile, “What did that little bitch tell you?” He growls out.

He still needs to protect Max, “What I already knew. You can’t be mad at her, okay?” Steve takes a step forward to get his back off of his car. “You have two fist shaped bruises on your side and those, they’re fresh. Last week, your face was all messed up, you had a split lip.” Steve wets his own bottom lip at the memory of it. Billy’s eyes tracks the movement of his tongue. Steve notices it, he thinks he shouldn’t but he does. “And what you said to me, on Saturday.” The last part comes out quiet. Like he is sharing a secret. Saying it out loud to Billy makes the reality of what he is saying feel bigger. 

The look is still in Billy’s eyes, some kind of numbness, distance, “Plenty of old men smack their sons around.” Billy says it calm, like he is checking Steve’s facts. “Been doing it since the start of time. I’m not going to be a little bitch about it.”

Steve is speechless, can’t even stammer anything out because he’s got nothing, feels his eye brows draw together in disbelief. Parents are shitty, he gets that, but what Billy’s dad is doing it is wrong. How can Billy not know that?

Billy holds Steve’s dumbfounded gaze. “Go home, Harrington.” His tone is like he’s talking to a child who doesn’t understand the way the world works.

“Billy-”

“And keep that mouth of yours shut. I’d hate to have to tell anyone about you hanging around and watching me in the locker room, like some perv.” Billy’s tone is mean, and so is the sneer on his face.

Steve is still too dumbfounded to take the bait or really understand what Billy’s threat would mean. He just kind of bypasses it, notes it as the other boy trying to distract him from the big picture, “If he is hitting you, is he hitting Max?” It’s the question he never got to ask Max today, but the one he needs a truthful answer for.

“Maxine and Susan are my dad’s perfect little family.” Billy says it like it’s another fact. He starts fishing around in one of the pockets of his leather jacket, produces a worn pack of cigarettes. “He’s not going to lay a hand on them.”

Something about that is even less convincing. In Steve’s mind a line has already been crossed. It’s not one or the other. If a father would hit his own son, he would hit anyone, “How can you be sure of that?”

Billy sounds frustrated as he gives Steve another fact. “Because I’m his favorite punching bag, that's how.”

All of this is so wrong. He's treats his father abusing him like its a statistic or some shit. Steve finally stammers out, “Was- was this happening in California? Does anyone know?”

Yeah, that was the wrong thing to ask. Billy crushes the package of cigarettes. Any question would have been better.

Just as fast as when Billy backed off a couple minutes ago, he is right back in Steve’s space. With two fistfuls of Steve’s jacket Billy jerks him around and walks him backwards. Steve takes hold of Billy’s wrists but doesn’t fight him. Lesson learned after the night at the Byers’ house. He takes the couple steps backwards, like they're dancing and Billy is leading. It's a really dangerous waltz and all bets are off. Steve probably shouldn’t have parked so close to the hundred foot drop, thats something to remember for the future.

Billy’s nostrils flare as he takes heavy rage filled breaths. Steve stays as calm he can, tried not to think about how close they are to the edge of the quarry, makes sure to look Billy in the eyes. Steve can be persuasive when he wants to be, and he really wants to be right now, “Hey, listen, I’ve already made a promise to Max, I’m not going to say anything so there is nothing to worry about. Okay?” Steve can feel the other boy’s pulse pounding from the grip he has on his wrists. “Come on man, I’m not going to break my promise to her. I won’t tell anyone.”

Blue eyes search his and Steve finds it hard to hold contact because nothings felt this intense before, but he needs Billy to trust him. He really does, need and want Billy’s trust. The need is so strong. It comes from beyond Steve's fear of going over the rocky edge of the quarry, “I know we don’t know each other, but you can trust me to keep my promise.” To his own ears it sounds lame and lacking. His eyes must communicate something though, because Billy is letting go of his jacket. He lets go so fast that Steve almost forgets to give up his hold on Billy’s wrists. He stumbles a step to find his footing. 

“I find out you said anything to anyone, you will wish you were never born. Do you understand me?” It's demanding, and still angry, but also sounds worn thin.

“Y-Yeah.” It’s the only answer he can give even though there are like hundreds of things going around in his mind. “Hargrove…Billy…” It comes out like Steve is pleading, maybe he is.

Billy doesn’t want to hear it, “We’re done talking.” Another fact.

The sun is down, and Billy is fading into the dark orange light as he walks back to his car. Steve is left standing there watching him go. He doesn’t like the - what would he even call it...a truce? No, that doesn’t fit. That’s not what happened. Whatever it is he doesn’t like it. He likes the promise he made to Max even less. Steve’s pretty sure he just messed up.

Steve doesn’t dream of tunnels. He dreams of Billy, in his pool. The blue glow of the water shows there is nothing else there. Not his house, not the forrest behind - _nothing_. Just him, the pool, Billy, and nothingness. If a pin dropped you could hear the echo of it forever.

Billy swims naked. The ripples of the water just enough to hide his body underneath the surface. Blonde curls, and the heavy silver necklace clinging to his wet skin. Arms move back and forth keeping him afloat. There is blood, a thin line of it running from the cut on his lip, over his chin, down his throat, and into the water. He is taunting Steve, calling him _pretty boy_, telling him to get in, that the water is perfect. Steve is on the edge of the pool, standing. He is pleading with Billy, trying to make him understand that he needs to get out of the water before it’s too late. Billy’s eyes are made even more blue by the light of the pool. Glow in the dark blue. It’s unreal. It steals Steve’s breath, he can’t breathe…

Steve wakes, belly down on the mattress, legs tangled in his sheets, and so fucking hard. His cock aches, trapped between the mattress and his stomach. He hasn’t touched himself in days. The idea of getting off while thinking about Nancy felt wrong, and he hasn’t wanted to think about anyone else. His stash of skin magazines are collecting dust under the bed, have been for a long time.

Mind fuzzy from the dream, and sleep, chest still flat to the bed he lifts his hips, gets onto his knees, and works himself out of his sweatpants, needing to get his hand around his cock. The morning light is soft and grey, the house is quiet. The only thing Steve can hear is his own labored breathing. He tells himself to not think, he just needs to get off, that’s it, that’s all. His cock is hot to the touch, made so by sleep and arousal. He keeps his eyes open, but not really focused on anything, not that it helps. Even with them open in his mind he can still see the Billy from his dream. Wet. So so so wet, not just from the pool, but from the shower at school,_ Did you like what you saw?_ The answer to Billy’s question had been, _yes_. He had wanted to touch Billy. To run his fingers over the silver chain Billy always has on. The precome Steve is leaking makes it easier to pump his fist, stroking his cock. Working up and down. Tightens his grip and ruts into his hand. His mind running over the dream, all the details, like the nothingness, and they way the pool glowed. He tries to keep Billy behind the those things, but he keeps surfacing.

Naked. He had been naked. Fuck. Steve uses the hand he is not jacking off with to push himself up from the bed, and fully onto his knees. Hips work to fucking into his moving fist. The hand stroking his cock is all shiny wet with precome. His balls pull up tight with mounting pleasure. Thoughts skip over to Billy on the basketball court, crowding his space, bare sweat covered chest pressed to his back. It’s that thought, that image, that pushes the hot shot of pleasure pulsating in his abdomen. He comes not thinking, and thinking about Billy all at the same time.

There is come all over Steve's pillow, a mess of it. He closes his eyes while catching his breath. He can smell it, his own release. He’s so fucked. 

~~~~~~~~~

The yellow school bus carrying the Hawkins High basketball team is dead quiet as it rolls down the highway. Long past dark, the temperature has dropped, and the sky keeps spitting out slushy globs. Billy thinks this might be his first snow. Maxine must be loosing her shit right about now. Every morning this week she’s been reading the forecast out loud from the paper. _Real snow_. She’s been acting like an excited child about it. Billy isn’t that impressed by the ugly globs falling. 

They lost the game against Reedway, but not before starting a fight with the other team. Disgracing their Coach, and blowing their chance of making it to the State Finals. Allen had started it with an angry shove to the point guard he’d been exchanging insult with since the first half of the game. It had turned into a mess the second Nick got involved. Sneakers screeched, as shoves and blows were exchanged. Reedway’s coach kept blowing his whistle, like it would do something, he got all red in the face. Saturday’s big game turned out to be a big bust.

Billy had wanted to win the game not get into a pissing match with the other team. Winning, is the point of playing after all, and he likes to win. There is a line between throwing elbows while trading insults at practice, and starting an all out brawl on the court during a game. What a bunch of dumb fucking hicks. Small town America alright. Billy bets all of fucking Hawkins will know what a disappointment their team is before the bus even pulls back into the school’s parking lot. Bets his dad will know too. He wasn’t part of the fight, but it won’t save him any. Neil will chew him out. Give Billy some long winded lecture about sportsmanship or some shit, and during it he will do something stupid, like roll his eyes or talk out of turn. He already knows this night ends with Neil in his face and getting shoved into a wall. Or worse. This town is more than a cage, he’s starting to think it’s his coffin and he’s been buried alive.

As a punishment the team was ordered to get on the bus in alphabetical order of last names, and to keep quiet. Its a two hour ride back to Hawkins, Billy is crammed in next to Harrington. Billy takes in Harrington from the corner of his eye, he has his body pulled tight, head resting against the window, eyes down watching the road go by. He is ignoring Billy, like he has been ignoring him since after their randevu at the quarry. Being ignored by Harrington isn’t any better than playing twenty questions with him. What Tommy and Carol had told him about King Steve turned out to be as reliable as information from a jilted lover. Tommy is a jealous bitch. Billy should have realized that sooner. Known better.

Billy had been on the bench, waiting to be put back in the game for the last quarter. Watched the whole fight happen. Billy saw Harrington pull the kid who had Tommy pinned to the grown up and off of him. Steve held his hand up, kept the kid at arms length, and never threw a punch. Just kept the other boy back as Tommy got to his feet. Steve could have landed a punch to the Reedway player if he had wanted to. Billy is starting to think that there might be something to King Steve, that he might be more than a pretty face. Which is the last thing that Billy wants or fucking needs. 

Turning his head a little more, Billy keeps his eyes on Harrington from under his lashes. Breaks the silence, but keeps his voice low and quiet, “Why’d you help out Tommy? I thought the two of you hated each other.”

Steve makes a huffing noise and sits up. Turns a little, and ducks his head, keeps his voice quiet too, “Tommy and me - look, we’ve know each other since the first grade. I don’t hate him, we’re just on different paths. He’s being an asshole about it, but whatever. It is what it is.”

“You know what I think?” Steve brings his eyes up to meet his, Billy doesn’t look away as he continues on, “I think Tommy is jealous, I think he knows that you are worth ten of him.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that, man.” Steve sounds tired, looks it too.

“What am I doing?” He wants Harrington to show his hand. To get inside his head and see how the other boy sees him.

“I don’t know, playing sides? Trying to pit us against each other?” Steve looks away, back out the window.

So, he thinks Billy is being manipulative. Billy’s not shocked by it, and Steve isn’t wrong about him either. He does what he needs to get what he wants. Has been doing it for a long time. Harrington is wrong though, about Billy wanting to start a fight between the former best friends. It wouldn’t get him anything, and he’s heard Tommy bitch about Steve enough to fill a life time. 

Harrington knows one of Billy dirty secret, the one about his dad beating him, that he is too weak to stop it. It should make Billy stay away from him. All the shame he feels isn’t enough to detour him from Harrington. In spite of the whole fucking thing he hasn’t been able to talk himself out of wanting the other boy. “What if the question was pure curiosity?” He lets a little charm trickle into his words. 

“Haven’t you heard, curiosity killed the cat.” Harrington says sounding like an annoyed brat. 

Billy laughs under his breath. The sound makes Harrington turn back to look at him. Pretty boy never did anything with his hair after the game. Its a mess. It’s a good look on him. Billy smiles, closes his eyes and leans his head back. Lets the image get burned into his brain. They're quiet for the rest of the bus ride. 

The bus unloads at the front of the school. Billy and Harrington’s cars are both parked in the upper lot. There’s a handful of parents at the school to pick up their kids. They pass a Ford, belonging to one of their teammate’s father, the man is standing outside of the car having a smoke. He looks confused as Billy and Steve make their way past, but a good portion of the team stays. Coach only want the kids directly involved in the fight to stay behind. Those who’s parents weren’t at the school to pick them up would have to call home. Almost half the team is going to be in detention next week. On the bus just before the school was insight Coach had called out the names of those kids. Steve’s name had been one of them but Billy had spoken up to vouch for him. Told their Coach what he’d seen. Tommy had confirmed it with a, _"__Yeah, Hargrove is right.__"_ Turned out there was some truth to what Steve had told him.

They walk in silence. The slushy globs start to have more of a shape, and fall like feathers, like someone ripped open a pillow or pillows. It’s starting to look like a feathery massacre. Billy stops in his tracks, brings one hand out of his jacket pocket. Catches flakes on his palm and fingers, they’re cold, but melt quickly in the heat of his hand. Real snow. He feels- excited. Like he had when he was a kid learning to surf. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything like this. This innocent. He has’t been innocent in so fucking long. Billy looks up from his palm. 

Steve has stopped too, is watching him, “You and Max, neither of you have see snow before, right?”

Billy can’t read his expression, but it makes him feel naked, and like he needs to lash out, “You must be a genius, Harrington. Figuring that one out.”

Harrington shakes his head, clearly annoyed, “Jesus.” The flakes have doubled in size, they catch and cling to his dark hair. “Don’t go driving like an asshole in this, we get black ice around here.”

“You worried about me pretty boy?” It’s meant to be mocking, a jab, but it misses the mark. There is a pause, a breath, were he thinks maybe the other boy’s answer is yes. It feels sharp like a blade. So he pushes against it in a different way, “I thought nice boys like you had manners, you haven’t thanked me for saving your ass from detention.”

In response Steve's look turns to something Billy can read as tired. He starts making his way towards the Beamer, “Good night, Billy.” Says it over his shoulder just loud enough for Billy to hear. 

Steve leaves foot prints in the snow as he walks away.

Billy lights up a cigarette as he watches him go.

The smoke and snow dance in the air of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for giving it a read.


	4. Shadows and Outlines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys get some quality time and Billy toes the line unbeknownst to Steve. I've been working and working on this chapter. If you like feel free to let know know. 
> 
> un-betaed

Billy’s found hell.

It’s in Indiana, in a shit hole town called Hawkins, in a house on Cherry Lane. It’s fucking Thanksgiving, and Susan has been calling it _turkey day_, all week. He needs to go for a drive, or somethings, anything to get away. Billy’s been trapped inside for most of the day. He usually smokes inside when it's this cold, but the only way he’s been able to make it outside of the house has been by taking smoke breaks on the covered porch. When the day started he had ten cigarettes in his pack, now there are just four left. He’s been counting them like they are his life line. The six he smoked weren’t enough to take the edge off, nothing is going to be enough. The edge has gotten higher as the day got longer. Billy feels his dad circling him like a shark that’s smelled blood in the water. Like he can smell how bad Billy needs to get the fuck out of this house.

Neil put him and Max are on dish duty. She’s washing and he’s drying. Dinner ended up on the table two hours late, Susan had tried to teach Max how to make mash potatoes. A little mother - daughter bonding time to sweeten the holiday. It had made Billy want to puke. They actually looked like they were having fun. At first his dad had eaten it up, his perfect little family having their perfect little _turkey day,_ until he realized how late dinner was going to be. By the time the turkey and all the fixings were on the table his dad’s mood was sour enough that even the usually oblivious Susan had caught on.

Max is in a hurry as she washes. Water and suds splashing onto the counter. She’s probably rushing so she can go talk to Sinclair on the radio she’s got hidden in her room. A couple days ago when she had left her door open Billy had caught sight of the radio peeking out from under her bed. It had been careless of her, so he’d taken it. Billy figured it would be better for him to teach her a lesson than for Neil to be the one to find the radio, and then find out what Max has been using it for. Billy is pretty sure that Max figured out the same thing, but not before being a hot headed bitch about him taking it. When she finally came to his room with eyes fiery, hand held out, and demanding it back, he’d given it back to her, but not before telling her to learn how to hide it better. She had looked at him with surprise at how quickly he had returned it, and with irritation at his warning. The next morning she had been ready to leave for school without him having to yell at her to get a move on. Billy took it as an apology, not that he needed one from her. Max realizing he was right was much better than any apology. To Billy being right is just another form of winning.

It’s almost nine and they’re on the last dish. The sound of the television makes its way from the living room into the kitchen, a steady hum of noise. Max hands an over size plate to Billy, she absentmindedly lets it go before he has a grip on it. He curses and Max jumps back a little, getting her feet out of the way of the heavy falling dish. The noise of it shattering on the ground fills the room. They both stare down at the large broken chunks of plate. 

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers it out. His stomach turns at the quiet panic in her voice. His jaw works as he grinds his teeth.

“Billy! What’s going on in there?” From the other side of the house his dad’s voice booms.

“Get out of here, shitbird.” Billy doesn’t want to think about the look she has on her face, the fucking concern. Her concern isn’t going to do him a lick of good now. “I said go.” He tries to keep the fear out of his voice. He also doesn’t want her guilt, it’s not going to save him from what is coming. He can hear his dad’s foot steps thudding towards the kitchen. Susan shows up right behind Neil, trying to peer over his should to get a better view. The look on his dad’s face is everything Billy hates. 

“Son, you’ve been itching to get out of this house all day. Haven’t you? Why don’t you go get your jacket and I’ll walk you out.”

Billy knows it’s going to be bad if Neil can’t wait, if he’s going to take it outside and get it over with right now. He toss the dish towel on the counter.

“Susan, honey, would you take Max, and go find something on the television for the three of us to watch. I’ll be back in once Billy and I’ve had our talk.” It’s not a request.

On the frozen ground is dirty snow. It’s been too cold for it to melt so its just stays there getting uglier by the day. Out in the cold night Billy feels like a man being led to the firing squad. His dad is ahead of him with the keys to the Camaro in hand. Neil stops by the car, holds the keys out to him. Billy’s heartbeat is thudding in his ears, he takes the keys. Neither of them say anything. He knows he shouldn’t turn his back on his dad, but he has to if he is going to unlock the door and get in. He fucking _hates_ this, being toyed with. 

It’s a one-two. Billy moves the key to the lock, Neil takes hold on the back of his head. His dad wastes no time slamming his forehead into the driver’s side door. He does it as Billy is turning the key in the lock. _Click_. _Smack_. The whole night goes black. Billy looses a second, maybe two. The next thing he knows Neil has swung him around by his shoulder, and is punching him. The blows are solid, his dad delivers a few to the side that is healing, then pulls back to punch Billy in the face, it lands on his right cheek. The force of the punch makes Billy’s head snap to the side, a little bit of blood splattering as he gasps. He stumbles, and is taken to the ground by a punch to his gut. Goes down hard, lands on his hands and knees. Sight still fuzzy. The kick that comes next lays him out. Lays him flat out on his back, down on gravel and dirt covered snow, trying to catch his breath.

Neil sighs deeply with disapproval. He leans down to make sure Billy can hear him, “Son, I think if you’re not allowed back in the house tonight you might learn to be in less of a hurry to leave. Why don’t you take the night to reflect on your behavior. Be back here in the morning, before Susan goes to work. I want you to apologize to her from breaking the dish, and the way you’ve acted.”

Billy wants to scream at his dad, _Cut me fucking loose! Kick me out of the house already! Why didn't you leave me California?! I fucking hate you, old man!_ Instead he pushes the words “_Yes sir._” Out of his mouth. The words taste like copper, and hate, and shame.

Later that night when he’s makes it to the quarry he bashes his fists on the dashboard of the Camaro and screams like an animal. Doesn’t care how much it hurts his body to make that kind of sound. Almost welcomes the pain. Spit flies and hot tears roll down his cheeks.

After it’s quiet and he’s numb, he stay in his freezing car staring out into nothing. The dark night eating him and his car up. Until sometime later out of nowhere pretty boy shows up. Stands by his window until he rolls it down.

~~~~~~~~~ 

Steve is pretty sure Billy has been crying, or at least it looks like maybe he has. Not that the overcast night is giving him much moonlight to work with. When Steve had driven out to the quarry after having Thanksgiving dinner at the Byers’ house he had come to clear his mind. Billy Hargrove isn’t going to help him clear his mind, like at all. 

Billy hasn’t fully looked at Steve yet, has barely acknowledged him, “I’ve got a six pack in my car.” It seems like a good way to start the conversation, specially after laying eyes on Billy.

They’ve kind of, sort of, talked at school this week. Monday morning on his way to class Steve passed the other boy in the hall, had asked Billy if he made any snow angels yet. Billy had smirked, licked his teeth then smiled at Steve. _"__I’m no angel. No amount of snow is going to change that. You’re going to have to look somewhere else for one, pretty boy."_

“Want me to go get it?” His voice sounds unsure. 

Billy lights a cigarette. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Steve slides on the icy old snow as he makes his way to the Beamer. The other day Mrs. Byers had invited Steve to Thanksgiving dinner after running into him on Main street. She had asking a couple strategic mom questions; _"__You must be looking forward to the break from school, I know my boys are. How long are your parents going to be in town for…" _There was no lying to Joyce Byers.

Hopper and El had come over to the Byers’ house for Thanksgiving too. Even though the mash potatoes had been runny, and the turkey over cooked it was the best Thanksgiving Steve could remember having in a long time. After dinner Will, Jonathan, and him had taught El how to play Monopoly. She used the thimble as her player’s piece, had moved it around the board with her mind, head tipped to the side, giving little nods, her piece would slide to its next spot. At some point Mrs. Byers and Hop had snuck out to smoke cigarettes together. 

When Steve left the Byers house he hadn’t been ready to go home. Not to his empty house. The dreams - nightmares, are getting worse. The tunnels merge into the hallways of his house. Dark and empty, in his dreams they have become one and the same. In his dreams he’s afraid he will find Barb’s body at the end of a tunnel. After the first one of those dreams he had woken up in the early hours of morning just as afraid to find her at the end of the upstairs hallway. He’d opened his bedroom door and broken out into a cold sweat. The likelihood of Barb’s dead body lying on the carpeted floor felt like too much of a possibility. He lives in a world where monsters are real after all, he’s battled them with his bat. Barbara Holland’s body showing up over a year after she died could happen. Stranger things have. After everything no one from the party is totally alright. Steve, sure isn’t. He’s about to hangout and drink a beer with Billy Hargrove, that’s just more proof of him not being entirely okay.

Steve doesn’t have to ask Billy to unlock the passenger door, he’s already done it. He also started the Camaro while Steve had gone back to the Beamer to get the beer. Steve slides in, tries to play it cool. He can be cool, “So, a - what are you doing here?”

“My old man didn’t like my attitude. Kicked my ass out of the house.” He blows smoke out the cracked window as he says it. Billy’s voice is rough, it coils in Steve’s gut. It also carries the same fact giving tone as the last time they were out here. Steve hands him a beer, figures it’s the best response for right now. Hot air blows through the vents trying to warming up the small space.

Billy flicks the cigarette butt out his window, opens the beer, and takes a couples gulps. With the Camaro running the little over head light is on, it gives off a faint glow. Steve catches sight of the bruises forming on Billy’s forehead and jaw. The radio is off. It doesn’t seem right. Billy usually has music blasting. Not tonight, though. The silence makes it feel a little colder even with the heat turned up high.

“Give me another one.”It’s a demand. Billy hasn’t finished his first, but Steve’s not going to point that out. He just hands another beer can over, and tries not to look too hard at Billy’s bruised face. Steve can’t look away when Billy lifts the hem of his shirt, though, exposing a patchwork of fresh angry marks on his side. So much worse than the couple black and blue marks from last week. And now Steve is really staring. Watching Billy use the ice cold can of beer as an ice pack.

Steve’s mouth starts running before he can catch it, “Listen, you got to hear me on this. You can talk to Hop. I mean Chief Hopper -”

Billy turns to look at Steve. His earring swings and shines as it catches in the light coming from above them. He cuts Steve off, voice threatening, “You keeping talking Harrington, I’m going to open that door and push you out of it.”

They lock eyes in a staring contest. Steve knows he’s not going to win, but he holds on for a few more seconds, wanting Billy to understand, there is help, all he has to do is ask for it. Steve wants to help the other boy. Thinks they are a different kind of broken, but it all add up the same. They are both out here at the quarry in the dark of night. Billy’s eyes are blue and ungiving to Steve’s stare. His lashes are long, like a girl’s. They make Billy’s eyes pretty. Billy has pretty eyes. Steve’s dreamt of them. That’s not what he wants to be thinking about right now. Steve gives in. He shakes his head in annoyance and looks away. He feels warm. Too warm.

“Can you turn down the heat?” He tugs at the collar of his jacket as he asks. Steve came - he touched himself - he shouldn’t think about it. He really needs to not think about it, not now, not here. It’s those kinds of thoughts that feel loud. Loud enough that Billy could hear them rattling around in his head. That morning Steve had needed to get off, that’s all. Billy has - had nothing to do with it. With beer Steve tries washing down the memory of the dream, of Billy wet and swimming naked. And what Steve did when he woke up. Throat working hard as he drinks the beer down fast.

The car turns off, the light and the heat along with it, “How was the Harrington Thanksgiving? Did you eat your turkey dinner on great grandma’s fine china?” Billy asks into the dark. 

“Screw my parents.” Steve surprises himself with how angry his voice sounds. He thought he was beyond caring, “They’re in Chicago. No wholesome family image to sell this year.” He takes another sip.

“Yeah, Tommy mentioned that your parents aren’t around much. Grass is always greener on the other side, Harrington. Be glad you don’t have my dad waiting at home for you.” There is no comfort in that, not that it’s what Billy is trying to do. Steve shivers despite it still being too warm in the car.

They talk a little. Steve mostly about Hawkins’ snowy winters, and Billy about the ocean. He tells Steve about how he surfed as a kid. Steve keeps quiet, lets the other boy tell him about seven foot waves. He drifts off while trying to imagine Billy as a kid, catching waves as blue as his eyes.

Steve dreams of the ocean and snow, of Billy catching snowflakes in the palm of his hand for the first time.

~~~~~~~~~

Harrington is asleep in Billy’s car. Slouched down in the passenger seat, head dropped to the side. Lips slightly parted, his breath goes in and out quietly. This isn’t the first time Steve’s fallen asleep in the Camaro. It happened a week ago too, on Thanksgiving. Billy watched him sleep that time as well. He takes a long unhurried drag from the cigarette he has pinched between his fingers, smoking it slowly. In the stillness of the night he can’t take his eyes off the sleeping boy. There is enough moon light to clearly make out his features. Billy could feel like a perv for staring like this but he chooses not to. He’s too self assured for that shit. If he wants to look he will. And he does. Soaks it in, how the other boy is so pretty it hurts.

The boys in California hadn’t gotten under his skin like Harrington has. Billy wants to get Harrington on his knees, to get his cock sucked by the former king. Wants to see his pretty pink lips stretched and spit slick. Billy’s mind flows with dirty thoughts, imagines holding Harrington by his dark hair, pulling it as he thrust into the wet heat of his mouth, hitting the back of his throat. Wants to hear him gage. Billy wants to feel how Harrington’s throat works around the meat of his cock. At that image Billy's cock flexes against the zipper of his jeans. Just a few thoughts, a couple indiscretions of the mind and Billy is rock hard.

Billy has thought these dirty thoughts before. More than a couple dozen times, easily. This isn’t something he’s thought about until last week happened, pretty boy all tuckered out and sleeping soundly in the seat beside him. Sleeping fucking beauty. Billy flicks the dead cigarette out the cracked open window. Brings his hand down to quietly palm himself. Needing some friction to ease his aching dick. If Harrington wakes up, Billy can pass it off as adjusting himself. Tonight he feels as tired as Harrington looks. Billy’s noticed that the other boy looks tired a lot of the time. Not that the bags under his doe eyes make Billy want to fuck him any less. He leans his head back, eyes still on Steve. Through his jeans he finds the thick vein on underside of his cock. With the tips of his fingers he applies pressure, runs them from just under the head to the base and then back up again. Muted through the denim of his jeans the touch is only teasing. He keeps doing it though, cause it feels good, feels even better doing it here with Harrington in the car. It’s wrong, but Billy can’t bring himself to care. Fingertips run lazily up and down. 

The lids of Billy’s eyes feel heavy. He only means to close them, give them a rest, but he falls asleep. It can’t have been for long though. He wakes, becoming aware of Steve moving. He’s not moving like he is waking up. In the darkness of the night the movements are restless like something is wrong.Billy pulls out his lighter flips it open. Uses the flame to get a better look. The movements start then stop with jerks. Steve’s head falls to one side then the other, hands ball into a fist, and then jerk open. He’s mumbling too. Billy thinks he can make out the words, _run_, _help,_ and _kids_. Harrington is having fucking nightmare. Great. What the fuck is Billy suppose to do?

“Harrington, you need to wake up.” Hisses it out in a whisper, waits and then nothing. Steve takes in a shaky breath, and makes a distressed noise. For fuck’s sake. Billy tries again this time louder, leans over to give the other boy’s shoulder a shake while saying his name. His first name. _Steve! _Billy doesn’t like the way it feels in his mouth. It’s too real. That seems to do it, though. Harrington is pushing himself up, hands scrambling to grab hold of something, he blinks wide eyed in the flickering light of the flame. He looks fucking wild for a moment, dark hair falling in his eyes. He takes hold of Billy’s wrist and give it a shove, “Get that out of my face, man.”

Billy closes the lighter with a snap. With the cling of metal they are back in darkness, the moon having gone behind clouds. Billy reaches, and fumbles for his pack of cigarettes on the dashboard, “What’s the matter pretty boy? You got some monsters of your own or something?” He can feel the other boy slowly turn to look at him, not that Harrington will be able to make much out. 

Billy can hear how hard he is breathing, he’s panting, like he was running or something. He fishes out a smoke, the last one of the pack. Before he puts it to his lips he asks, “That bad, huh?”

“Can I get one of those?” Harrington asks finally finding his voice again.

He looks where he thinks eye level is with Steve. Flicks open the lighter, flame comes out bright orange. Billy was right, the other boy’s eyes lock with his as he lights the cigarette between his lips. Steve’s eyes are dark, lips parted. Billy wants to kiss him. Lick as the wide set cupid's bow. The lighter flicks closed, delivering them back into darkness. Billy takes a long hard drag, lets the smoke fill his lungs, blows it out through his nose, “Last one pretty boy, what are you going to give me for it?” The charm his voice carries doesn’t fit into this night. Billy hates missing the mark.

“Shit - never fucking mind, Hargrove.” There is an edge to Steve's voice. With the tone of Harrington’s voice Billy realizes how big his misstep was. This wasn’t the time to push. Harrington’s actually bent out of shape by the dream. He takes one more drag makes it a good one, and then hands it over as he says, “Watch the cherry.” Steve is careful of the lit end as he moves his hand towards Billy’s. Their fingers brush as the cigarette is passed. Skin against skin. It feels like getting hit by lighting.

And Billy wants him. Has since the first time he laid eyes on him. Wants him now, even though he has been made all jittery by some bad dream he was having.

“There- Billy there are real things in Hawkins you’ve got to watch out for. Okay?”

Billy sighs, “_Steve,_" uses his first name again. "You’re shaken up from a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Just say okay, _Billy._” 

He can’t not. Not with the way Steve sounds, the way he said his name.

“_Okay_.”

Steve leaves not long after that. Drives off in the Beamer.

Billy thinks him and Harrington aren’t that different. They’re both just outlines and shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank to everyone for reading! Seriously, Thank you!


	5. Jump to Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a very long, very un-betaed chapter. A big thank you to everyone that's taken the time to read this story and see where it goes. Hopefully this chapter keeps everyone happy with how things are progressing.

Over the last few weeks there are mornings that Neil has been at home. Its been grating on Billy’s nerves. The days that Neil works the late shift means that he is around while the members of the Hargrove household are trying to start their day. The trade off is dear old dad isn’t home those evening. It spares everyone from his holier than thou attitude, and him trying to shove his ideas of family values down their throats all while shit talking his co-workers. Neil has always loved to put his nose in the air, like the Hargroves aren’t one step away from being white trash. If Susan’s aunt hadn’t of offered them the house to stay in they would be living in a trailer. That fact has been kept from Max, but Billy is all too aware of it. Still his dad won’t let him get a job in Hawkins. It’s a way to control Billy, and punish him for Californian. 

Neil got laid off at the end of Summer, and with a reputation of being difficult to work with none of the other factories in the area were eager to hire him on. Maybe they would have stuck it out in California longer if Maxine hadn’t let it slip about Billy fibbing what hours he was really woking. He had been teaching swim lessons at the country club out in the suburbs. His shifts ended at six, he’d told Neil seven. The little white lie got him out of family dinner three times a week for a year. Also got him back handed twice, a lecture, and locked in his room. Two weeks later they were moving to bumfuck Hicksville, and Maxine was on his shit list. 

This morning his dad caught him getting ready for school. Billy had been checking himself out in the mirror, feeling good, playing it up, imagining how he would ruffle Harrington’s feathers. Winked at himself like he was winking at the dark haired boy. He was spraying his curls into place when Neil appeared, stood in the doorway of his room, looming like a shadow Billy couldn't out run. _"__Son, no respectable girl is going to want some boy who peacocks around like a faggot."_

His old man could shove his seven am advice. Billy had wanted to mouth off, _Good thing I’m going after the prettiest boy in this shit hole town,_ But he had only answered back with the usual,_ "yes sir" _while slamming the can of hair spray down, and reaching for his cigarette.

Crash and burn. Rock and a hard place. Billy makes his way towards Harrington’s locker. And he is going after Steve. At this point Billy can’t not, he doesn’t have the self-control to stay away. He thinks he might get away with it too. If he plays his cards right. He learned along time ago that someone else’s vulnerability can be made to work in your favor. One more nightmare, and King Steve might let Billy give him a little comfort. Can't help but think the way pretty boy keeps falling asleep in the Camaro is a sign that his is letting his guard down. Billy is willing to bet he can get it down farther.

Steve is bent forward, digging through his locker when Billy saunters up. He has a pencil between his lips and his dark hair has flopped forward. At first Harrington doesn’t realize it’s him. Billy watches as the other boy does a double take and then pops up to full height. He fumbles to get the pencil from out of his mouth. Billy smiles, satisfied with the result of catching Steve off guard.

“Morning, pretty boy.” He leans with one arm resting on the locker next to Harrington’s. Holds the surprised boy’s confused gaze.

“Jesus, man. Why do you call me that?” Harrington sounds like he’s trying to cover up his embracement with annoyance. Billy’s not about to let him get away with it.

“Calling it like I see it. From what I hear none of Hawkins High’s ladies are going to argue with me.” Keeps his voice casual and smooth while he says it. Shifts his weight on his feet so he has to move a little bit closer to Steve. It’s dangerous, what he is playing at right now. For being so bold the other boy could call him a queer or a faggot. Getting called that in a hick town like this, Billy’s knows there would be no coming back from it, but if he doesn’t take the risk, there’s not the possibility of reward. He’s ready to be rewarded. Cash in his chips.

Steve breaks eye contact, shaking his head and looks nervously around the kid filled hallway, kids that are totally unaware of what is happening between the two of them. Billy want Steve’s attention back on him.

Billy asks, “So, are we going to the quarry after school or what?” That does it. Harrington is back to looking at him. He looks skeptical, brows knitted together. 

“Yeah, um, not today man. I’m taking the kids to the arcade, once they’re done with their club.” Steve’s eye are on him like he might discover something new about Billy if he looks hard enough.

Billy feels disappointment coil in his gut at Harrington’s answer. He keeps the smile on his face as he turns away. Says over his shoulder, “Have fun with that.” He walks away feeling the other boy watching him as he goes. There’s that saying, good things come to those who wait. He’s not that patient.

~~~~~~~~~ 

Steve’s taking the kids to the arcade after they’re done with AV club. He’s waiting in the high school parking lot, doesn’t want to look like a total loser by waiting at the actual middle school. He’s also trying not to be as aware as he is of the Camaro that’s still parked here too. No Billy in sight, though.

This morning before the start of first period Billy had shown up at Steve’s locker. Steve hadn’t been expecting it or the invitation to meet up at the quarry after school. Even though last week he had been the one to ask Billy to go to the quarry. He must of looked stupid with how badly Billy had caught him off guard.

Before basketball practice last Thursday, Steve had heard Hargrove asking some of the team what they were doing afterwards. Allen had answered that Laurie was having a party the following night. Billy clearly had been irritated by that answer, had made a snarky comment at Allen. Steve had thought maybe Billy needed to not go home, like going home that afternoon might lead to more bruises. He had hung back, waited for the team to clear out of the locker room, but caught Billy before he made his way out with them. Mentioned going to the quarry to the still angry blonde. The thought of the him returning the invitation hadn’t crossed Steve’s mind.

There is something else… back at his locker, he thinks Billy was flirting with him. Jesus, he’d even called Steve pretty. Billy’s been calling him pretty boy for weeks, but the way he said it today felt way more loaded. He feels warm and self conscious just thinking it. Boys aren’t suppose to flirt with other boys, but Steve is like eighty-seven percent sure that Billy was with him. The other twelve - - no, thirteen percent, he’s not that bad at math, feels at a complete lost as what to call it. Billy could be fucking with him, pure and simple. That should be the answer, it should be that simple, but Steve’s not so sure it is.

The first time Steve had woken up in the Camaro, he had been embarrassed, mortified to have slept through the whole night with Billy right beside him. The sun had been coming up. Billy had greeted him with, _"__You looked like you needed the rest, Harrington." _ The second time he had been too messed up from a nightmare to care that he had done it again, fallen asleep with Billy next to him. Billy had given Steve his last cigarette, the one he had been in the middle of smoking. The paper had been wet with Billy’s saliva, Steve had felt the wetness on his own lips when he had gone to take his first drag off it. It should have been gross, but it wasn’t. Steve is so screwed. He lets his head fall on the steering wheel. He keeps it there for a minute, closes his tired eyes. Between Billy and the nightmares he’s not getting much sleep. When he finally brings his head back up there is movement in the distance catching his eyes.

In the distance, just beyond the Camaro, Steve spots Mike Wheeler making what he thinks is a beeline for his car. It drags him out of his thoughts. Mike is alone. The kid is coming in hot. Moving so fast that he’s bent forward at the waist. He has a determined look oh his face that Steve doesn’t like it. Mike is close enough now that they’ve made eye contact, it’s not good, because the kid starts to run, making him look like an even bigger nerd than he normally does. Any hope Steve might have had that he wasn’t really heading towards the Beamer vanishes, “No, no, no, no, no!” Steve starts sputtering out loud, sits up quickly from his slouching position, and goes to lock the doors. Whatever this is, he wants no part of it.

He’s not quick enough. Mike throws open the door and plants himself in the seat next to Steve, “I need your help!”

“With what?!” Steve feels completely bewildered. He has his hands up in confusion. What the hell could he help Mike Wheeler with? Jesus Christ, this better not be Upside Down shit.

“I’llgiveyouallthemoneyIhaveifyoutakemetoseeEl.” The kids says it so fast it actually comes out as one word. It takes a moment for Steve to figure out what Mike is asking him for.

“Come on! I have two dollars!” 

Steve finally recovers, “In what, change? And No!”

“I have to see her.” It’s so honest that some of the annoyance Steve is feeling fades.

Steve runs a hand through his hair and lets out a groan, “All right, look, the Snow Ball is a week away. You’ll see her then.” He tries lightening the mood, “El might even let you dance with her.”

Mike shoots him a look that says, _I’m not a kid_. “Hopper is a lying sack of shit. He kept me from her for an entire year. What makes you think he’s not going to keep her from going to the dance?”

“To avoid the sheer annoyance of this.” He gestures at the kid. “Listen, you need to chill out. …”

Billy finally appears. He is walking with Tammy Thompson hanging off his arm. He’s not looking at her. He’s looking at Steve with a raised eyebrow and an amused grin. Today isn’t as cold as the last few have been. His leather jacket is half way unzipped, the shirt underneath, unbuttoned to the zipper, necklace resting on his bare chest shows. The metal has to be extra cold against his skin. Steve feels the familiar warmth that he now associates with Billy, rising in his body. Steve can’t remember why he thought Tammy was cute before, in this moment he kind of hates her.

Before he can think, Steve is fumbling with rolling down his window, cold air hitting his face as he yells out to Billy, “Hey Hargrove, are you bringing Max to the arcade or not?”

Billy stops and lick his teeth, his smile growing. His amusement making its way into his voice as he plays along, “Oh yeah, what time was I suppose to drop her off again?”

Steve feels the pounding of his heart. “In twenty minutes, asshole.” 

Billy nods, grinning ear to ear, like he just won something. Steve can hear Tammy telling Billy she’s, _not going to some stupid arcade,_ as they are walking away.

Oh shit.

What did Steve just do?

When he turns to look at Mike, the kid’s face is scrunched up with a look of disgust, “Have you lost your mind?”

Maybe…

_~~~~~~~~~_

Harrington’s Beamer with all his brats in tow pulls up to the arcade. Billy already sent Max inside. Skeptical is one way of calling what Max had been when he pulled up to the junior high and told her to get in, that he was talking her to the arcade. 

_"You’re up to something, Aren’t you?"_

_"Who, me? Maxine, a good brother takes his sister to spend time with her friends, right?"_

She had looked at him like he was crazy. The prospect of getting to play Dig Dug, and the afternoon with that Sinclair kid won over her apprehension. She had settled into the Camaro, arms crossed, giving him a glare that could freeze hell. 

The whole group plies out of the Beamer. One loud mess. Billy watches in fascination. He doesn’t get it, why the hell Harrington choose this over being king of an entire school.

“…what and you got a wild hair and thought that I would drive you out to the cabin? I’m not going to piss Hopper off just so you can see your girlfriend.” Harrington sounds like he is at his whits ends.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” The kid shouting back and slamming the car door shut is Nancy Wheeler's little brother, that much Billy knows.

Sinclair cuts in. “You took us to the tunnels, that definitely pissed the Chief off.”

“Yeah, no- that’s not what happened!” Harrington looks like he is about to rip the hair out of his head as he slams his car door shut too. When he turns and sees Billy he freezes. The whole group follows Harrington’s gaze, and clam up when they see him standing there, all sets of eyes wide with alarm. The littlest one mumbles, _Oh shit_.

Sinclair recovers the fastest, doesn’t shrink away like the other kids have, he straightens his posture, hold his head up high and looks Billy in the eyes. The kid has a backbone, but Billy already knew that. Billy nods at him, it’s his way of apologizing. “Maxine’s already inside.” He says it in Sinclair’s direction.

Steve claps his hands together, getting everyone’s attentions, “Alright, everybody inside, you’ve got an hour.” The last part sounds like it’s more for Billy than the kids. Like pretty boy is telling him to tread lightly.

They’re sitting on a picnic bench out back, behind the arcade. It’s weather worn, and has been pulled up to the building, the overhang keeps most of it from getting snowed on. It’s cold, but Billy keeps his jacket and shirt how they are, nice and open. Wants to see if Harrington will take a peek again. 

Harrington clears his throat, “Christmas break is in two weeks. How have things been - you know, at home?”

The question throws Bill off in his jacket pockets his hands clench into fists. It’s not how he wanted things to start, but then he’s the one who let Harrington take the lead. All the same he gives an honest answer, “My old man’s not around as much. He’s been working the late shift a couple times a week.” Billy leaves out the part about thinking there is something off about it. Neil’s never likes missing dinner, _"__I__t’s family time _and _respectable families eat dinner together."_

“What about your parents Harrington, where the fuck are they?” Billy is actually curious. Tommy had mentioned the lack of parental supervision at the Harrington household, Billy hadn’t realized the actual extent. Seems like Steve is home alone all the time.

“Chicago. My dad is a grade A asshole, and my mom only pops back home when she starts feeling guilty about not wanting to be a mom. Most of the time she is following him around making sure he doesn’t screw his secretary.” Harrington answers without turning to look at Billy.

Well shit, there isn’t really anything Billy can say to that, but it does open the door foranother question. He’s planning on this question getting him where he’s trying to go, “Will they be home to celebrate our lord and savors birth?” It’s sarcastic, and said with a charming undertone, Billy wants to lighten the mood. He won’t get where he wants if pretty boy is all down and out.

“They haven’t not graced me with their presence yet. I don’t know about this year, though. They didn’t make me come out to Chicago for Thanksgiving, so who knows if they’ll show up for Christmas.” He lets a sign out at the end.

Billy already figured, but the picture is becoming much clearer, that there is a part of Steve Harrington that is a lost little boy in a big old castle, and he’s all by himself.

They’re sitting closer together than they would be if they were in the Camaro, it's worth how cold his ass is getting. Billy knows how to make it less lonely for him. He tips his head towards Steve and leans in a little closer, let his voice roll out smooth, uses the same tone that makes every bored housewife and every school girl's panties wet, “I bet your old man has some top shelf booze. Maybe some whisky. Tell you what, if your parents don’t show I’ll come over, and help you take it off his hands. We can celebrate together.” Makes sure to give Steve his best smile at the end, it is easy to do.

Steve’s eyes flick over him, and then past him, and then come back to meets his eyes. With their eyes locked he asks, “Were you planning on inviting yourself over to Tammy Thompson's house too, before you decide to come here?”

“Tammy Who?” Billy keeps it light. His charm usual wins out.

Steve rubs his hands on the legs of his jeans a couple times before pushing off the table top, tennis shoes hitting wet gravel, “Yeah, I’m not doing this Billy. You’re fucking around with me, and I’m not gonna let you. It’s bullshit, man.”

Billy has lost the upper hand. It feels like the rugs been taken out from underneath his feet. He’s not use to stumbling. He stands to keep Harrington from leaving, blocking his way. He needs to say something, make up some ground he just lost, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Harrington. Okay, so your parents don’t come home. I don’t have to come over. You and me, we can drink whisky at the quarry instead. It’s not like I’ll want to be at my fucking house anyways.”

It’s the fucking truth. The second it’s out Billy knows it. He’s pushed it to the back of his mind, how badly he doesn’t want to be trapped at home for the two whole weeks of Christmas vacation, in that house, with his dad. Because nothing about it is going to be a fucking vacation, “It’s not Bullshit. You bring the whisky and I’ll bring my smokes.” He remembers their fingers brushing as he gave Harrington his last cigarette. It stirs something in him. He doesn’t like it, but it does.

Steve pushes back. “I’m serious. I don’t want bullshit in my life.” His arms are crossed. He’s giving a warning.

The darker out it gets the brighter the neon lights from sings in the neighboring businesses' widows grow. Dusk and neon hang in the air. 

Billy doesn’t want to ended up empty handed. Steve gave him a warning, and he looks like he’s about to make good on it. He looks like he is about to walk away, “Yeah, Harrington, I got it.” It’s not what he wants, but he’s agreeing to it because Steve walking away from him is the biggest way loose.

Billy thinks about having to start over again, about loosing all the headway he’s made with Harrington. He's not sure he could again, that Steve would let him. It’s a feeling he doesn’t like. He hasn’t wanted someone to stay since his mom left. That feeling is a rock, it sinks him down into the memory of being twelve, he’s sitting on his bedroom floor with the telephone pressed to his ear, asking his mom when she is coming home. The weight of the phone, he can still feel it in his hand. She’s the only person he’s ever missed. Told her that over the phone, and she still didn’t come back for him. He wants Harrington to stay. And that want, Billy thinks, if knew what is good from him, he would fight against it, bust up the other boy's face for making him feel it, but he doesn’t - he can’t. Already knows what pretty boy’s face looks like blooded up by his fists. It's not something he wants to revisit. 

He sits back down, trying to gain control of his thoughts, and not let Steve see the war that is going on inside of him.

Billy switches gears as a way to distract himself.He asks, “The kid that was in your car, he is Wheeler’s little brother, right?”

Steve’s brows are still knitted, he has a look of distrust on his face. He sits back down on the bench slowly, puts a little more distance between him and Billy then there was before.

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t get it. Why are you doing your cheating ex the favor of carting him around?”

He sighs, “Alright, first off Nance - Nancy didn’t cheat on me. And the kid is annoying as hell, but he’s a good kid.”

“I seem to remember her and the Freak leaving you in the dust.”

“Jonathan Byers, is worth ten of me, man.” He says that like he believes it.

“Nah, some how I doubt that.” Billy doesn’t sugar coat his voice because he doesn’t need to. He’s being honest. 

He asks Steve a few more questions, basic things, nothing that could rock the boat. Billy got in his own way today. Charged straight ahead, when he should have been looking where he was stepping. His mistake. It’s one he won’t make it again.

Billy’s has one last move. He calculates how to make it while unwrapping a pieces of gum, puts the minty stick in his mouth and starts chewing, “So tell me, when’s the last time you had some fun?” He doesn’t dress us the question in his usual charm. Keeps it simple.

“I’m not sure our definitions of fun are the same, but I’m listening.” Steve’s tone is lighter than before, more forgiving. He holds a hand out and nods, asking for a stick of gum too. 

Billy is smiling again, but he doesn’t push it into anything bigger than what he is actually feeling, “Come to the party next Saturday.”

“The one at Tina’s house?” Steve asks as he takes the stick of gum Billy’s offering him.

“Am I missing something? I didn’t think this hick town was big enough for more than one party in a night. Yeah, the one at Tina’s house.” He wants to push, to say something more, drive the point home. He doesn’t, it makes him feel stir crazy in his own skin. Chews on his gum a little harder. Harrington is thinking it over. Billy wishes the wheels would turn a little bit faster in that pretty head of his.

“Alright, maybe for like a second.”

~~~~~~~~ 

Steve watches from the Beamer as Max and Lucas say goodbye to each other. They both seem nervous, it’s cute. Something must have finally happened between them during the dance. Lucas gives an extra wave to Max as she get in the Camaro. She gets in the car without breaking their eye contact.

He and Billy talked about nothing and everything for two hours, killing time in the Camaro waiting for the dance to be over. Steve learned that Billy worked as a lifeguard and swim instructor back in California. It made sense, Steve could picture him acting like he owned the pool, ordering swimmers around. He told Billy about the one and only time Tommy and him went cow tipping. The blonde had thrown his head back and cackled at Steve’s story. Before he headed back to his car Billy asked him about Tina’s party whether or not he was going to be there tomorrow night. _"__Wouldn’t you like to know, Hargrove." _That’s how they left it. 

The passenger door to his own car swings open and Dustin plops in. His hair is still perfectly held in place. Thank you, Farrah Fawcett. Steve knew she wouldn't let him down.

The moment of hair triumph is short lived. Steve notices right away that Henderson is in a somber mood. Shit. He was afraid of this. 

“So, how did it go?” He ask keeping his tone unassuming.

“It was great.” It comes out flat and Dustin doesn’t elaborate. He looks over at Steve while he’s buckling his seatbelt and drops his eyes soon as they meet Steve’s. 

Whatever went down at the dance Dustin can tell Steve. He won’t judge the kid or think him any less cool, “Yeah, so tell me about it man.”

Dustin turns to look back at Steve. The expression on his face grows impossibly serious for a thirteen year old, “I’ve got to be honest with you. We’re friends, and friends don’t lie, and I would’t want you hearing it from someone else before hearing it from me first.”

Steve’s eyebrows go up as he nods, taking in what Dustin is saying to him, “Okay man, shoot.” He can’t imagine what the kid is about to tell him.

“I danced with Nancy.” He stares at Steve. “Nancy, your ex-girlfriend. That Nancy.”

He sits blinking at Dustin until his brain starts working, “Yeah, yeah okay buddy.” It’s bitter sweet the way it makes Steve feel. Not that Steve would get bent out of shape about Dustin dancing with Nancy, more that Dustin thinks he would be upset by it. And Steve, he will always love Nance, but he’s not in love with her like he was. He feels a little dazed because he’s not sure when that shift happened.

Steve’s slowness must have Dustin worriedbecause he continues on just as serious as before, “She’s the one that asked me, and I couldn’t leave her hanging, you've got to believe me…”

Steve does his best to keep his face just as serious, to keep the smile back. He doesn’t want to make Dustin feel like a dumb kid, because he’s not, so Steve says, “It's alright, nothing to worry about. We’re cool.”

“Yeah?” Dustin nods, but Steve can still hear the question in his voice.

So Steve nods back at him trying to get the point across, “Yeah.”

Dustin lets out a big sigh of relief and flops back in his seat. Steve’s smiles finally breaks through, “Dancing with the best girl in the Hawkins, not too bad for your first Snow ball.”

Dustin is smiling from ear to ear, “I’m her favorite one of Mike’s friends.” He has the smile on his face for the entire drive back to his house.

Steve had woken himself up with the noise of his own hands smacking the headboard of his bed. Which is something, his bed doesn’t have much of a headboard to begin with. He thinks he might have been talking in his sleep too. In the nightmare he’d gotten pulled into his pool by vines. He tried to stop it from happening, fingertips made bloody by being dragged and clawing at the concrete.

It’s eight in the morning, and he’s just gotten out of the shower. Baby blue and grey alternating tiles glisten with condensation. He took the shower to clear his head, but his mind is still running. Like it’s trying to get away from itself. Steve might let it. Thoughts skipping from the bad dream to Billy, and then circled around their interactions.

Pretty, is not a word he would use to describe himself. It’s not really a word for guys. He has the boy next door thing going for him, sure. Back in the day he use to be popular. Popular enough that he hadn’t cared what girls thought of him, until Nancy came along, but even that doesn’t feel like this feels. It’s not that he cares what Billy thinks of him. It’s what? 

He wipes the mirror clear of steam with his towel, also baby blue. Billy had been wearing a blue shirt last night. He drops it on the floor in a damp pile and sighs loudly.

Lance Miller, Steve hasn’t thought about him in a long time, but this week the kid keeps popping up in his mind. During the first five years of elementary school, Steve and Tommy had been best friends with Lance Miller. Steve remembers when he was ten, thinking Lance was the definition of cool. He was better at basketball, made up ghost stories that were good enough to scare older kids, and all the girls in their classes had crush on him. Steve also remembers Lance had green eyes, and secretly wanting to be just like him. They spent all their time together, so much of it that Tommy had complained about being left out. It had made Steve feel good, that the other boy liked him better than Tommy. When the Miller family moved away Steve’s dad had bluntly stated, _"__It’s for the best, two young men shouldn’t be spending as much time together, like the two of you have."_ Thinking back on it now, what his dad had said, there’s a different meaning there, one he had been too young to pick up on at the time.

There are words for it. Faggot being one of them. The worse thing you can call a guy at school is, fag.Steve has heard his dad use that word too, when talking about one of his mom’s friends in Chicago. His mom always corrects, _"__Don’t use that word, he is a homosexual." _Steve’s not innocent, last year he called Jonathan a queer. 

He’s pretty sure Billy Hargrove has been flirty with him, and he’s been letting him. If Billy’s been flirting with him, what does that make Billy? What does it make Steve for that matter? Steve had been in love with Nancy, had liked being with her, liked sleeping with her. The sex had been pretty good, he didn’t have anything to complain about, it never felt like he was faking any of it. It was never bullshit.

It’s more than letting Billy flirt with him, he’s been touching himself and thinking about the other boy. Tells himself that he’s not, but he has. Billy lingers in the back of his mind while he does it, covered in sweat and calling him, pretty boy. It’s more than the one time too. He could do it right now, touch himself and think about Billy. Steve is so tired. The last few nights have been rough. Too many shitty nightmares. Billy is way easier to think about, and Steve is so goddamn tired.

Showing up to the party makes whatever is happening between Steve and Billy feel like something. It is, something. The way they’ve been circling around each other, it can’t not be. Steve’s just not sure what that something is. He’s showing up because Billy is here, there’s no other reason, he’s not going to lie to himself about it.

Steve parks a few blocks away, which he usually does when going to party for a number of reasons. One is avoiding getting his car blocked in by other cars. Which by the looks of it is exactly the fate that’s fallen on Jonathan and Nancy. Byers' light green car is running, and the music that is playing comes through as a hum into the cold night. Nance is turned side ways in the passenger seat, she is smiling and laughing. Her laughter audible over the hum of the music. Byers is facing her. Steve has seen the two of them together enough times to know that his faces is mirroring her expressions in its own way. He’s probably wearing his dopey unsure grin. They don’t see Steve, and he’s oaky with that. He makes his way up the long, car packed driveway. 

The party is already in full swing. Someone has toilet papered the trees out front of the house. There is a couple dramatically arguing on the snow covered lawn, _"__He wasn’t hitting on me. You’re just jealous!"_ They have an audience. three girls, all with teased hair, stand with backs pressed to the red bricks of the house, watching the whole thing go down as they pass a bottle of liquor back and forth.

Prince’s, _Let’s Go Crazy_, is blasting through the open front door of the house. It’s been left open as kids come and go. No point in closing it. It’s like every single student from Hawkins High has shown up. Eager to let loose because they still have one more grueling week of school before winter break starts.

The floor is sticky with spilt punch and beer. Steve’s not here to rub elbow, he weaves through the crowd of kids dancing in the living room. He doesn’t acknowledge anyone for more than a, _hey_ or _hello_. He’s searching for Billy, scanning over faces quickly, and pushing farther into the room. He bobs his head in time with the music, playing it cool. It’s easier to move through the crowd if he is dancing along. When he pass by Becky, she catches his arm and drunkenly calls him, _King Steve_. He shakes her off and keeps going. It’s rude but he does’t care.

When Steve finally makes it through to the other side he catches sight of Billy. He is standing by the entrance to the kitchen, wearing an amused grin on his face like he’s been watching Steve this whole time. Billy’s in his leather jacket, no shirt on, just like the Halloween party, only not. Everything is different now. Steve can feel his cheeks warm as Billy’s smile grows bigger. He wants to tell Billy to fuck off. Instead he follows when the other boy motions for him to come into the kitchen. Steve is actually nervous, really nervous, can feel his heart pounding in his chest. No one’s made him nervous before, not like this. 

Tina’s been planning this party for weeks. There are two bowls of punch, not one but two. Her oldest sister must have helped secured the alcohol to make that happen. Every surface space in the kitchen is littered with beer cans and empty burger bags. It’s going to be hell to pick up tomorrow. There is evens stuff on the ceiling, red streaks that look like ketchup. 

“Fancy running into you here, Harrington.” Billy grins like a shark and hands Steve a red plastic cup of mystery punch. He takes a sip, it taste like boozy Kool-Aid. Heavy on the boozy. It is exactly what he wants. A little liquid courage. 

“When did you get here?” He ask leaning in to make sure Billy can hear him over the music.

“Long enough to know I beat you to the party.” Steve thinks it’s Billy’s way of saying I was looking for you, without having to say it. He can read between the lines, he thinks.

They talk, small talk. If you ask him tomorrow he won’t be able to tell you what they said to each other. It doesn’t matter, something about it feels right, like it had with Nancy, but different. Everything is different with Billy. Nothing is going to be like it was with Nancy, and Steve is realizing he doesn’t need it to be. He needs to stop comparing this to what he had with her. It’s not going to get him anywhere. Whatever is going on between him and Billy is its own thing. Good or bad. Right now, it’s good.

It’s not long until some random girl comes stumbling up to them. There is more hot pink lipstick on the rim of the cup she is holding than on her lips.

The girl smiles up at Billy, “I like your earring. Heard that you pierced your ear yourself.” She is trying to flirt with him. Steve finally recognizes her as the same girl from Mary’s party, the one that tried to get Billy to sit next to her by making eyes at him. Looks like she’s gotten bolder.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” Billy asks as he lights up a cigarette. Steve wonders about his lack of shirt. Did he just not come with one on? He takes another sip of punch. The drink is making it easier to not be judgmental of his own train of thought.

She goes on, “I had my ears pierced when I was ten, but the holes, they closed up, and I can’t wear earrings or anything. My mom has diamond studs.”

“You don’t say.” Billy’s careless about where he blows the smoke. It’s not actually in her face, but it’s close. It doesn’t detour her any.

“I have an idea. Pierce my ears for me, Billy. Give me a reason to steal them from her.” She thinks she’s being cute, Steve thinks it’s pathetic. He rolls his eyes as he takes a drink. Wishes she would take a hike.

Billy licks his teeth, looks past her to Steve, “How about about you, Harrington? Would you trust me to pierce your ear?” Steve can feel his eyebrows go up in surprise at the question. Billy laughs at him, and takes a drink from his beer.

The girls throws a look over her shoulder, wrinkles her nose up at Steve, and asks, “Why are you here?”

She’s not just drunk, she’s a brat.

He’s about to tell her it’s a party and everyone is here, when a drunk football player runs into her on his way to one of the bowls of punch. She gets pushed into Steve, dumping what’s left in her cup onto his white t-shirt as she is thrown off balance.

It’s purple, and it’s all down the front of him, “Son of a bitch, that’s real great.” He pulls at the shirt, his skin feels sticky underneath the fabric. "Just what I needed." 

Billy doesn’t give her a chance to apologize instead he drops his cigarette butt in her now empty cup, and gives Steve a small shove in the direction of the hallway off of the kitchen, “Let’s go get you cleaned up, Harrington.”

The sound of Duran Duran follows Steve and Billy down the long hallway. The framed family photos have gotten knocked around over the course of the party. Tina and her older sister smile at Steve and Billy from tilted angles.

They make their way to what Steve knows is the Tina's parent's bedroom, he’s been going to parties here since he was fourteen. The door is closed. Billy doesn’t even pause just throws it open uncaring if the room is occupied by a couple trying to score a home run. It swings in and hits the wall with a thud. It is, occupied. Carol is on the bed straddling Tommy. They are clothed, thank god. The light from the lamp on the bedside table casts the room in dim light. Carol looks like she is about to bitch out whoever interrupted them until she realizes it’s the two of them.

“Are the two of you lost? Carol ask as she shuffles off Tommy.

“Harrington, here is a mess.” Billy thumbs over his shoulder at Steve.

Steve doesn’t trust himself to answer, irritated by how the night is unfolding. First the punch and now Tommy and Carol. Instead of saying anything he pulls one side of his jacket away from himself. Showing the stain in all its purple glory.

“Party foul.” Carol makes an uninterested face while saying it, and goes to grab her cup off of the dresser. Her expression sours when she realizes the cup is empty. She turns to shakes it at Tommy’s face, “I told you not to drink mine.”

Billy chimes in, “The punch is going to be gone soon. Football team is treating it like a watering hole.” He Leans on the dresser, bare chest pushed out and on display.

“Tommy I want another one. Come _on_.” 

Tommy’s pushed off the bed, faltering on his way up. He’s clearly on his way to being drunk, “What couldn’t hold your cup upright, Stevie boy?”

“Yeah, that’s real clever, Tommy.” Steve huffs out.

Before Tommy can answer, Carol whines and pulls on his arm, “Come on already.” 

He gives in. “Whatever.” Tommy slurs as Carol drag him out of the bedroom.

Billy closes the bedroom door behind them in the same as he opened it. It closes with a thud. The noise rattles around in Steve’s head. Steve is wound too tight to just stand there and see what happens, now that they are alone in a room together. He heads for the bathroom without looking at Billy.

The bathroom is filled with dark pink details same as the bedroom. Green pastel tiles frame the counter. There are two pink sinks. His and hers.As Steve goes to one of them he hears Billy shut the bathroom door quieter than he had the bedroom door. He also locks it. The sound of the lock clicking echos in Steve’s head. Billy is locking them in the bathroom together. Steve starts rubbing at the stain on his shirt with cold water, keeps his eyes down, rubs hard. Can feel Billy’s eyes burning a hole in him.

“You could pull it off.” Billy’s voice breaks through Steve's thoughts as he is trying to talk himself into staying calm, into being cool. He needs to chill out. 

“What?” He chances a glance up. Can see Billy reflection in the mirror. He is leaning with his back on the closed door, down cast eyes, long lashes that get Steve every time on display. He’s looking where Steve’s shirt and jacket have pulled up, at Steve’s exposed skin. Steve thought about Billy while he masturbated this morning. Had let his mind go. Thought about him naked and what it would be like to touch the other boy. To feel Billy’s cock in his hand. It has to be thick, he wants it to be thick. Everything on Billy is…

Steve has to pull himself out of his own thoughts. Could really use that coolness he once had in spades right about now. 

“Billy, I could pull what off?” At the sound of his name Billy brings his eyes up to meet Steve’s in the mirror. Steve can feel hot heat spread out in his body. He feels it, what he told Dustin about, the electricity, like there is going to be a storm. He feels it here, and now, with Billy. Both their cheeks are flushed and not just from mystery punch and beer. He wishes he had drank more.

Steve is so goddamn tired of trying to guess what this is. He just wants Billy to tell me. He can take it, whatever the blonde says to him. He turns off the water. His shirt is ruined, they didn’t come in here to try and save it. And no amount of punch is going to make him braver. He’s just a stupid teenager at a stupid party.

The blonde pushes off the door, moving forward. Steve turns around to face him and whatever is coming. He freezes as Billy reaches out with one hand, bringing it up, slowly tucking Steve’s hair behind his ear before going to touch the tip of that ear. The touch makes the muscles in Steve’s abdomen jump. He can’t take his eye off of Billy, who’s own eyes are following the path his finger is taking. He traces the shell of Steve’s ear from top to bottom. When he gets to the bottom he takes the lob between his index finger and thumb, and applies pressure, pinching with blunt nails. Hard, until Steve’s hips give one unmistakeable buck, like the pain of it does something for him. Like he is asking for more. 

“You came just for me, didn’t you, pretty boy?” He ask greedily. Voice smooth and rough at the same time. Steve doesn’t know how he does that with his voice. He nods breathlessly, lips slightly parted to take in air. Only he feels like he can’t breathe. He thinks yes, he did, he has, in more ways than one. He feels naked, more naked than Billy without his shirt on.

Billy hasn’t let go of his ear. Fingers still biting into the flesh of his lob. He’s not so sure he likes what he can see in Billy’s eyes. It’s self-satisfied, like he just won, but Steve can’t look away. The look is short lived as Billy starts searching Steve’s eyes. He watches Billy’s expression change, the self-assured smile fades as seriousness creeps into his blue eyes. The wheels are turning in his head, and Steve is watching the effect of those thoughts as they play out through Billy's expression. If it was a game before it’s not anymore.

Steve has a white knuckle grip on the edge of the bathroom counter. The front of his wet shirt clings to his stomach. Blue eyes flicker to Steve’s lips, and then up to meet his eyes. There is a question in them. Steve gives a little nod before his mind can really catch up to his actions. He’s pretty sure he is giving Billy permission to kiss him because he is pretty sure that’s what Billy just ask for, even though neither of them have actually said a word. 

Billy steps forward, fingers finally letting go of Steve’s ear.Billy’s hand moves to the back of his neck taking hold. Steve tries to swallow his nervousness down. His mouth starts working, he doesn’t want it to, not right now, but he can hear himself asking, “Billy, what are we doing?” His eye fall back to Billy’s lips, watching them part, like he might actually give a real answer to Steve.

THUD! 

Steve and Billy freeze. Eyes wide. Bodies going tight with a very different type of tension. The loud sound is familiar. It’s out of time with the beat of Steve’s heart, making his heart race that much faster. His brain answers the unformed thought that crosses it, the sound is the bedroom door being thrown open. 

“Hey! Hey Hargrove! Hawkins finest have arrived to crashes the party!” Tommy sounds like he is yelling from the doorway of the bedroom.

Jesus Christ, the cops. It’s most likely Hopper and either Powell or Callahan with him. Just your good old reliable Hawkins police force, but all the same there is a boat load of underage drinking happening.

“I get picked up by the cops for partying and my old man will kill me.” Billy says in a rush while dropping his hand from Steve’s neck, but not before giving it a squeeze. Fingers at the nape tightening and then letting loose. Like he his is trying to communicate something to Steve.

“Let’s get a move on, Harrington.” Billy demands as he turns, moving to the door.

They don’t have time waste. Steve moves to keep up with him, “Listen, we can go out the bedroom…”

In the bedroom Tommy is caught up in lace curtains, and struggling with getting the window open. Both him and Steve clearly have the same idea. Trying to make it out the front door would just get them caught. 

“Hurry the fuck up Tommy!” Billy snarls as Steve moves around him. Putting his hand on the boy’s leather clad shoulder as a way to let him know he’s coming around. 

Carol is tipsy on her feet, it's obvious she got that glass of punch she wanted. Steve pushes past Tommy elbowing him out of the way. Getting Billy out of here is his mission. On Monday when he gets to school he doesn't want to see Billy with bruises. Tommy backs off, grabbing Carol by the hand as he moves, Steve assumes it’s to get her out of his way. He pushes the curtains aside, tires to shove the window up like Tommy had. No luck, it won’t budge. Steve reaches his hand up to feel around, it takes him a second, but he finds it, the windows is locked, Jesus. He turns so he can call Tommy a dumbass to his face, but he’s not there. Steve turns a little more, eyes going to the bedroom door behind him just in time to catch the back side of Tommy and Carol as they make their exit. Too impatient to wait for Steve to get the window open.

Billy is turned that way too, “The fucking two of them were made for each other.” He says. 

Steve shoves the window open, now that it is unlock it goes up so quickly that Steve almost looses his balance. He goes with it, sticking his head out. The main bedroom over looks the side yard on the side of the house farthest from the driveway. He looks to the right, nothing and then to the left, a girl and boy run hand in hand heading towards the street. Steve can hear their laughter echoing in the night. The drop isn’t that bad, no bushes to watch out for.

Steve brings his head back in, the cold clings to his skin, heart thudding warmly in his chest.

“Coast is clear, you first, Hargrove.”

They make a jump for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think <3


	6. Last Supper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed that everyone likes this chapter. It's where the idea for the story originated. Makes it feel extra good finally getting to share it with you all.
> 
> Un-betaed

There is a snowstorm heading to Hawkins, it’s going to be a big one. It’s already hit Chicago, covering the Windy City over night. The school has been buzzing all day. Kids have been making bets on whether or not they’ll get a snow day out of the deal. With the excitement over the possibility of an ungodly amount of snow, and the up coming holiday break, teachers are having one hell of a time getting their classrooms to focus. Every one of them has had an uphill battle all day long. Notes have been passed between students, paper airplanes have missed their marks, kids have talked out of turn. It’s controlled chaos packed into six periods. Even Steve is caught up in the excitement of it. He thinks it could be fun to take the nerds sledding. Plus Mrs. Henderson makes the best hot chocolate.

He and Tommy have math together. They’ve been back on speaking terms since after the game with Reedway. At the start of class Steve had gotten to enjoy giving him shit about the party, and the locked window. Turns out while he and Billy were running to their cars, Tommy and Carol played a game of hide and seek with Officer Callahan. At one point the pair had to hide under the Officer’s car. Steve cracked up at the story, the way Tommy told it had been too good. Tommy’s not so bad, neither is Carol. They will never be friends like they were back in the day. Steve has a feeling that all three of them are finally okay with that. 

Right now Tommy is leaning over Steve’s desk, trying to get a better view out the window, looking up at the looming grey sky. There’s no snow yet, it’s not suppose to start until tonight.

“I’m telling you Stevie boy, it’s gonna happen, I can feel it.” He laughs, and drops back in his seat. 

“Yeah, man I think you’re right.” Steve is feeling like anything is possible, specially after the party on Saturday. He’s already having a hard time focusing, the coming winter storm is just an added distraction. Yesterday he gave himself a headache from thinking too much. His mind ran a Billy Hargrove marathon. Billy was going to kiss him. Billy was going to kiss him, and he was going to let him. Steve’s always been the one to go in for the first kiss, the one to make the first move. Never has he been the one waiting for it to happen. It’s a new feeling, one that gives him goosebumps… in a good way.

He keeps taping his pencil on his desk trying to get out some pent up energy. It’s sixth period with twenty minutes until the bell rings. Twenty minutes until he can go find Billy. 

There is still a tiny little part of him that’s nagging, telling him that Billy could be fucking with him, but he’s choosing to ignore it. Life is short, monsters are real, there is something going on between the two of them. Steve said no bullshit and Billy agreed. There is still a bunch of shit that could go wrong, but yeah, he's choosing to ignore it.

Billy had waited for him. Offered Steve a hand up from from the crouching position he landed in after jumping out the window. Hands clasped, palm against palm, heat had spread through his body. Getting hauled to his feet by Hargrove was one of the best feeling Steve thinks he’s ever felt. Like being light headed, but not in a bad way. While their hands were locked and palms pressed together it had taken him back to the basketball court. To the day Billy told him to plant his feet. Looking in Billy’s eyes when he stood up, he is pretty sure that’s where Billy’s mind ended up too. It hadn’t gone any further than that. Officer Powell rounded the back corner of the house, they had to make a run for it. Cold air filling their lungs.

The bell finally rings, and Steve is out the door like a bat out of hell. Barley hears Tommy saying, s_ee you later._ School bag flung over one shoulder, he presses past slower moving kids in their over sized winter coats, as he heads in the direction of the parking lot.

Billy isn’t Nancy, but Steve is still Steve. He tell himself there is logic in that. He can’t act any differently than who he is. Maybe he gets a little smarter over time, he thinks he has, hopefully, but he can’t be someone he’s not. It’s a fine line; personal growth, and staying true to yourself, or something. That’s the pep-talk he has been giving himself since yesterday afternoon. 

The idea came to him when he took Dustin for burgers and fries. Steve had needed out of his empty house and out of his thoughts. Hanging out with Dustin was always a good distraction. The kid was still riding a high from the Snow Ball, and getting to dance with Nancy. He was a ball of energy. They had gone to Hank’s, the diner in town, on Main street. The two of them ended up getting in a friendly, but heated debate. Do the fries at Hank’s really suck? Or did they just suck because both him and Henderson know how good the fries are at Patty’s Place.

The cold is like a slap to the face as Steve pushes through the double doors at the side of the school. It feels too cold to snow. The blue Camaro is parked in the last space. Billy’s leaning on it, posture lazy as he smokes. His leather jacket is zipped up all the way up.They don’t have classes together, and there’s no practice on Monday. Steve’s been waiting to lay eyes on the blonde boy all day. He didn’t want to seem desperate, because he’s swears he’s not, so he didn’t try searching Billy out between classes or at lunch.

Billy takes a drag from his cigarette as Steve walks up to him, he blow smoke slowly out from between his lips, and Steve licks his own. Jesus.

“Harrington.” Billy greets him. Eyes burning into Steve.

“Hey. So a - have you been to Patty’s?” Well...he was going to lead up to that, and not just dive right in, but the question is already out his mouth. He rubs his hands together trying to get some warmth into his fingers.

“Who the fuck is Patty?” Billy asks as he stomps out the cigarette butt with the heel of his boot. 

“No, no, Patty’s Place. It’s a diner, just out of town. You would have seen it on your way into Hawkins. It’s like a mile or two before the Welcome to Hawkins sign.”

“What about it?” Billy asks, hot breath coming out white in the cold.

“They have the best curly fries in Indiana.” Billy’s got a look that reads equal parts confusion and amusement. Steve can be cool. He continues voice relaxed, “I’m going there, now. Come with me and I’ll buy.” 

Billy lets out a chuckle, looks down with a smile, seems real interested in the piece of gum he is unwrapping. When he looks back up at Steve it’s with pure amusement. Before putting the gum in his mouth he pauses to ask, “Are you asking me out on a date, pretty boy?”

The question catches him by surprise. Boys don’t date boys, aren’t suppose too, but Steve stands his ground. He’s already made the choice to do this. Sink or swim. “Yeah, I am.” Because he is. Holy shit, yeah he really is. It takes Billy asking the question for Steve to fully grasp where he want this to go. He wants this to be a date. 

Billy chews his gum thoughtfully, “You going to buy me a milkshake with a cherry on top too?” Smoothness threads into the rumble of his voice.

“Yeah, no, I mean, their milkshake machine has been broken for years. Nobody goes there for milkshakes.” He stammers. Billy's gaze getting him warm under the collar. “Also, it’s freezing out.”

~~~~~~~~~

The light at the back of the diner glows red from the neon beer signs hung in the large window, casting both Billy and Steve in a faint red. The booth they are sharing is framed by that window, giving them a view of the far end of the near empty parking lot. The size of window isn’t doing shit to help keep where they’re sitting warm. Billy had followed Harrington to the booth in back without asking questions. If the waitress hadn’t of seen them heading for it she wouldn’t of know they were there. Billy is fine with no one knowing that him and Steve are here. Doesn’t need small town gossip filtering back to his dad. 

It’s a date. Billy doesn’t even know what to do with that because that’s the last thing that should be happening between the two of them. He had only call it that to ruffle Harrington’s feathers and give a little push. Hadn’t expected the other boy to run with it. Seven weeks ago all Billy wanted was to get a blow job from the former King of the high school, and now they’re sharing fountain sodas. It’s stupid is what it is. Feels like a kind of danger Billy didn’t know there could be. The cigarette he smoked after school, he can’t even sell himself on that being anything other than him killing time while he waited to see if Harrington would show up. 

The waitress, Dorian shows up to drop off their order of curly fries and two cokes, “Patty wants the diner to close early tonight. You boys have an hour and maybe some change. Can’t imagine your folks would want you staying out late anyway. Specially with all that snow they keep saying is coming.” She looks like she is about to say more, but stops when the bell over the front door gives a jingle, calling her away.

They dig in. Salt and sugar. Harrington wasn’t lying, the fries are good. Billy watches the other boy, but keeps his gaze casual, uninterested. Harrington looks like he is searching from something to say, like he is nervous. Billy takes a sip from his soda, waiting for the other boy to start talking.

Steve clears his throat, “You think it’s gonna snow, like everyone says?”

Hick town USA, where the only thing to talk about is the goddamn weather. With his boot he gives Steve’s foot a little kick under the table, “Do I looking like the fucking weatherman?” Takes another swig of coke and leans back, “It snow here every winter, right?”

Steve nods while chewing. 

Billy challenges him. “Enlighten me, Harrington. What’s the big deal?”Above the table his hands gesturing wide like he is welcoming whatever the dark haired boy is going to tell him.

“Listen, I don’t expect you to understand, but snow days are hard to come by around here.” Starting to relax, Harrington pauses to take a sip of soda, “Alright, you need at least seven inch to even get a late start, and nine plus puts it into snow day territory, twelve inches and you’re golden.” Billy could make some jab about twelve inches, bets he could get Steve to blush like virginal bride on her wedding night. He lets it pass though, the more he’s gotten to know the other boy the more he has come to realize those sorts of games will only get him so far.

The more Steve talks the less nervous he is, a relaxed smile makes its way to his face. It’s a good face, the best Billy has seen. He can’t help himself, the thought pretty boy crosses mind. There’s no reason not to be staring at Steve, he’s the one talking. Plus nothings ever stopped Billy from looking at what he’s wanted to look at before. Steve keeps smiling, all easy and relaxed and Billy just keeps staring while he thoughtlessly chews on fries that don’t taste as good and Steve looks.

“Chicago got nine, and that storm is heading our way. And we always get more than Chicago. Some winters it’s way more.”

"It’s still just fucking snow. Next question Harrington, what’s so great about a snow day anyway?”

He watches Steve drop the curly fry he just picked up back into the basket, sit up and lean forward, forearms on the table. Like he’s getting ready to give Billy some big life secret or some shit. It’s fucking ridiculous is what it is. Harrington in his boy next door long sleeved polo shirt, thinking he is about to school Billy on the mysteries of snow days.Billy cracks a wide smile, and has to look away of a second. Doesn’t want Steve to see how easy he just made it for him to smile. Makes Billy feel a little too open. Licks his teeth and replaces the smile with a look that says, _I’m unimpressed,_ _convince me. _Turns back to Steve. It’s too late though, he knows Steve already caught him with the smile on his face.

What the fuck is he doing? He started this thing with a devil may care attitude and it was a mistake. Billy shouldn’t be doing this. It’s playing with fire, is what it is. It’s going to be more than crashing and burning. At the party, the satisfaction he had felt for finally getting Harrington where he wanted him faded fast. Billy saw the way Steve had looked at him and it made him feel - fake. Made him feel like bullshit. The look had been equal parts; want, confusion, and disappointment. He had promised Steve, no bullshit. One look was all it took, and Billy was going to kiss Steve - was going to be sweet about it even though he’s never been sweet about anything. Like he had lost his fucking mind. One pretty eyed boy is going to be his downfall if he is not careful. He needs to _plant his feet._

Steve leans forward some more, his movement brings Billy’s wandering thoughts back to the diner.

“Think of it like a bonus day. Almost like a freebie. Like you’re getting away with something.” He keeps going wanting to make his point, mistakes the change in Billy’s demeanor for a lack of belief, “Okay, the last snow day we had was six years ago, but It was only a snow day for the schools. Most kid’s parents still had to show at work. I’m telling you it was great, no adult supervision and all the time in the world - - well until like 5:30. Tommy and I got drunk for the first time and no one was the wiser. Actually, we got shit-faced.”

Billy has yet to see Harrington drunk. Would bet good money on him being a warm and fuzzy drunk, maybe a little sloppy too, “Let me guess Harrington, you got drunk on your daddy’s best whisky?”

Steve give Billy’s boot a slight kick under the table, “ No man, a bottle of chardonnay that got left in the hall closet after one of my parents dinner parties. Probably was like a hosting gift or some junk. I found it and kept it hidden in my room for a month.”

Billy can feel the smile returning. Steve must notice because he gives a laugh at his own story. “Your first time getting drunk was the middle of the day, off some over priced shitty white wine with Tommy?” Billy asks just to clarify.

“Yeah man and we watched The Price is Right.” The smile on Steve’s face has grown into something carefree and easy.Billy’s not sure he’s ever worn a smile like that. He’s got all kinds of smiles, uses them to get him what he wants. They’re tools. He usually laughs when he’s bested someone or won. It's hollow. He’s been good at pretending its not, but it is. 

“Tommy asked me every day for a whole month about that bottle of wine, if I still had it. You know, like it might grow legs and run off in the middle of the night.” Billy listens wanting to hold onto this. Live in the world of Steve’s story for a second longer. Believe that a day at home could amount to anything more than the feeling of being suffocated. That a first time getting drunk doesn’t end with a punch to the face. Steve’s dark eyes meet with his. The look in them is, soft. Billy wants to tell Steve not to waste his time or pretty boy gaze on him.

“What are you thinking about, Hargrove?” Steve asks.

He doesn’t need to answer. Dorian is back to collect their empty glasses and red plastic fry basket. She distracts Steve who is asking for the check. Billy is relieved, doesn’t want it to be his turn at story time. Doesn’t want to tell Steve about the tequila, the older boy and all those fucking kisses that made him hard. Made him realize girls would never get him worked up in the same way. How he came home reeking of all those things, and his dad gave him a bloody nose. Billy thinks that most of Neil’s beating would be less brutal if he was only trying to beat in the respect Billy lacked, and not beat out the queer too.

“…is that your dad?”

The question jolts Billy out of his thoughts. Next thing he knows his eyes are following Steve’s gaze out the window. There is couple standing by a Buick, has to be a couple because of the way the man’s hand rests on the women’s waist, because the heels of her shoes are coming back to touch the ground like she just got done being on her tippy toes to kiss him or some shit.

And yeah, it’s his fucking dad. The woman, she must be the _late shifts_. Truth be told Billy’s not all that surprised, it’s always the most pious that are the biggest pieces of shit. All that talk about the importance of family and he’s been screwing around on Susan. It figures.

“… that’s not Max’s mom…”

It’s like Neil can hear Steve say those words. His gaze raises slowly from the women who isn’t Susan, traveling to Billy and Steve sitting all nice and cozy in the diner. The big window acting as a picture frame. They must look like a painting because they’re both frozen in the moment. Staring out at Neil Hargrove and a women who isn’t his wife.

_Last supper, _that’s what the painting would be called_. _Only it would be painted in the style of Norman Rockwell, or Edward Hopper, or one of those artist Billy learned about at school back in California.

Neil’s gonna kill him.

~~~~~~~

The Beamer is parked in front of the diner. The next parking spot over is empty. Earlier the Camaro had been parked there, next to Steve’s car . They had come here because of Steve. Because he had wanted to know what would happen, if he and Billy spent time together like two kids - who were maybe, kind of interested in each other. 

Steve’s sitting in his car staring straight ahead, eyes fixed on one spot, but not seeing anything. Not sure how much time has passed, two minutes or maybe more like ten. Gotten so trapped in his thoughts, he hasn’t noticed the cold yet. He feels like he’s in over his head, and lost, and so fucking confused. He would rather be battling demo-dogs. He’d take on those freaky flower faced things over this feeling of having screwed up.

Shit.

And he hates himself because he should never had let Billy leave with his dad. He knows the truth about Neil Hargrove. But you can’t take a nail spiked bat to someone’s dad’s head. Even when that dad is another definition of what a monster is. The rules of engagement are different for the Upside Down, and for all those freaky horrors that come from it. It feels like an a-ha moment realizeng there is a freedom to that world he wish he had in this one. With the Upside Down and all its messed up things, if someone is in danger you get to swing your bat and asking question, well, never. He’s never questioned it. The fact that he’s helped to kill… things.

Neil Hargrove is a fucking monster and - Steve…

Steve startles when the waitress, Dorian stumbles out the front door of the diner, the bell over her head jingling. She’s trying to get her coat collar up while getting her cigarette ready at the same time. She fumbles with the lighter, looks up, and looks surprised to see him still here. It brings Steve out of his thoughts, and yeah its been way more than a few minutes. Steve gives an awkward wave to Dorian before starting his car, turning the headlights on, backing up, pulling out. The early night already feels too dark.

Steve’s not sure where to go, he just knows he doesn’t want to go home. He can’t stop thinking about the way Billy sat as his dad made his way over to their booth. Billy, too calm, shoulders pull tight, jaw set, the one hand resting on the table balled up into a white knuckled fist. Sat like that the entire time his dad had been there, it had only been a minute maybe two, but it felt like forever. Billy’s responses to Neil’s few questions were just as tight. His eyes had a hard almost determined look. Seeing but not seeing, like a wall had gone up. Kept looking ahead, just past Steve. When he had gotten up from the booth to follow Neil out of the diner he did it without looking at him. Billy didn’t look at him either when he had said in a toneless voice, _"__See you around pretty boy."_ There had been no bite to his words, no sting, no flirting. It had made something in Steve want to crumble. It had sounded more like a goodbye. He had wanted to tell Billy he didn’t have go with his dad, but all he had gotten out was a broken, _Billy_. At hearing his own name the blonde had paused, hesitated for a second and then followed his dad out.

With every minute that passes Steve can feel the weight of how badly he’s messed up settle more squarely on his shoulders. Remembers once saying it desperately to Nancy through a gap in the Buyers’ front door, _"__No, no, no listen. I… I… I messed up. Okay, I messed up…"_It’s a heavy feeling. Makes him feel useless. What is he going to say to Billy? Cause this is more than messing up. He remembering those bruises on Billy’s side. The ones he saw in the locker room at school, after practice. All the other ones too. And Max’s confession… _"__I think Neil broke Billy’s arm." _ God, he really is an idiot. He should have gone to Hopper right away.

He can’t shake the feeling that Neil Hargrove might kill Billy tonight.

This morning the weatherman predicted snow, proclaiming it would be more than the town of Hawkins has seen in over a decade.Over the phone his mom had let him know how bad Chicago had gotten it.

_“Steve, you know I don’t like worrying about you, just, please dear, stay in tonight….”_

She had sounded like she was in a rush and she was only calling to check on him because it was written on her, to do list.

This morning feels like it was a lifetime ago.

The snow hasn’t started, but all the same no one is really out tonight. The diner was only half full. The road coming back into town has been quiet, no other cars. Steve is on Dearborn heading towards Main Street when he sees a phone booth coming up on his right. With one hand on the steering wheel, the other starts frantically searching his pockets for a quarter.Steve doesn’t even bother pulling over, just parks the car in the street. Leaves it going. Hurrying. Making his way through crunchy, dirty snow left over from last weekend. Puts the quarter in and dials the number to the Hawkins’ police station with a shaking hand.He needs to get ahold of Hop. This should have been what he did when he first found out. When all those dots came together and finally made a clear picture of what Billy’s life really looks like….

There is guilt and so many other emotions running through Steve. He feels like he is vibrating with them. Made sick to his stomach by his own lack of action. He has know for weeks…

The voice that’s coming over the line is calm and direct, “Hawkins police department. This is Florence, how can I help you?”

“ I…I... I need to talk to Hop- Chief Hopper.” Steve stammers out fast. 

“The Chief is out at the moment. May I ask who is calling?”

“Fuck!” It just comes out. It’s the only response he’s got and he regrets it right away. “Shit.”

With frustration that’s growing into desperation he smacks the wall of the phone booth. The woman wasn’t Max’s mom, that was… the other women. Neil Hargrove beats Billy for almost anything. Thy’ve been living in Hawkins for a few months, and Steve needs both hands to count the number of bruises he’s seen Billy with. What’s Neil going do to him now? Now that Billy knows he’s been fooling around on Max’s mom. 

On the other end of the line Flo give him a firm, “Excuse me, that will get you nowhere.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just please, can you radio him or can you… you need to send someone to the Hargroves. They live on Cherry lane-.” Steve can hear the desperation in his own voice.

“If you want my help, I’m going to need your name, first and last.”

“Steve Harrington! Please, you need to get someone to th-”

Florence cuts him off. “Chief Hopper and Officer Powell already left for the Hargrove residence…"

Steve’s stomach turn over, he feels sick, like he could puke. There’s a buzzing in his ears too. He drops the phone. Hanging it up isn’t even a thought. He leaves it dangling in the air from its metal cord, Flo’s voice drifting after him as he runs to his car.

It started snowing. Tiny flakes falling from the starless night sky. Steve drives fast, like he’s trying to out run the storm that’s already arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought.


	7. Dragged Out and Pulled Under

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are the best! Thanks for all the great comments and being part of the adventure. A lot happens in this chapter and I really hope it works with the story as a whole. 
> 
> Unbetaed, as always.

The Beamer is rolling down a very dark Cherry Lane, going too fast for the roughly paved road, and weather that is quickly turning into the winter storm that was promised. Tires skid in the snow as Steve pulls to a stop. He parks across the street from Billy’s house, scanning the scene before getting out. Steve had been expecting once he made it here he’d see Hop’s truck, and Powell’s car with lights flashing blue and red against the night sky. He imagined an ambulance, and neighbors too, crowded around watching Billy’s covered body being taken away on a stretcher. There is none of that; no lights flashing, no ambulance, no crowd of people like he thought there would be. There is no Billy. 

The biting cold and snowflakes that have quickly grown is size are keeping all of the neighbors inside expect one. Half a block down Officer Powell is talking to an older women. She has on a puffy winter coat over what appears to be her bathrobe. They stand under the one lonely street lamp that this part of Cherry Lane has. Hop’s truck and Powell’s car are parked curbside, running parallel to the house, blocking Steve’s view of both house and yard. The Camaro must be around back somewhere.

Steve’s out of his car fast, shoes leaving tracks in freshly fallen snow. He ignores Officer Powell, who’s calling after him. "Young man you need to stop right there_."_ He can't stop. He needs to find Billy. Nothing about what he has seen so far gives him any answers to what has happen to the other boy.

His steps falter when he realizes Neil Hargrove is sitting in the back seat of Officer Powell’s car, eye fixed on him. Steve slows to a full stop in the middle of the street, taking in the older man’s appearance; his hair is out of place, the start of two black eyes swell making him look like he is squinting. Starting at the collar all down the front, one side of his work shirt is darker than the other. The darkness, it has to be blood. The visibility through the window isn’t great, but it’s good enough for Steve to clearly see Billy’s dad read the look of panic he can feel spreading across his face from the sight of the blood, and fear that most of it is probably Billy’s. He watches as a look of judgement and disgust crosses Neil Hargrove’s own face in return.

Jesus Christ, where is Billy? Standing and staring at the older man won’t get Steve any answers. He moves forward, passing in between the two vehicles, he puts his hand on Hop’s truck to balance himself, hand running over the ice cold metal as he rounds the front of the vehicle. Officer Powell is still calling after him.

The curtains hanging in the windows of the house are drawn closed, illuminated from the light inside, floral pattern facing in shows through to the outside. There is soft yellow light spilling out from the cracked open front door onto the covered front porch. Slowly, the door opens, light spreading out as it goes. Steve focuses on it hoping for Billy, instead Hopper is stepping out looking worn and serious. His brows knit together when he sees Steve. He pauses on the top step and then makes his way down. Gives Powell a wave as he steps onto the snow covered walkway, signaling to the officer he has the situation under control. Steve can feel Billy’s name sitting on his tongue, before he can call out to ask Hop, he catches movement out of the corner of his eye.

Standing off at the side of the house, beyond the big tree is Billy. The breath that has been lodged in Steve’s throat finally passes past his lips. It comes out white and as thick as smoke. Billy has a brown blanket that looks like it came from Hop’s truck draped over his shoulders, his head is lowered, cigarette raised to his lips, smoke rolling up to mix with the falling snow. Snow wet curls hang in his face, posture tense. He is moving, pacing like a caged animal. He doesn’t see Steve.

Hopper must realize that Steve’s caught sight of the other boy because he calls out sharply in a tone that’s meant to be obeyed, “Harrington, stay right there.”

At the sound of Steve’s name cutting through the night Billy’s head comes up, eyes going wide with surprise as his focus lands on Steve. The blanket slips off one of his shoulders, revealing the blood stained undershirt he has on. From this distance Steve can make out an angry red gash on the bridge of his nose, that’s where all the blood has to have come from. There are other cuts too, one eyebrow is bloody. Billy doesn’t make a move or to bring the blanket back up, he just stands, having gone still as he stares at Steve, and for his part Steve is doing the same. Heart pounds with relief, body flooding with it. Can feel it surging in all his limbs. Billy is okay. He is okay, kind of. He’s alive. That's something Steve can work with that.

Steve doesn’t know what to call the look that Billy is giving him, he is still not the best at reading the blonde. One of the few things Steve can pick out in his look is disbelief. He shakes his head at it, willing it away. He’s here, he should have been here sooner.

In a span of a couple seconds Steve completely forgot about Hopper, until the Chief is moving in front of him, blocking his view of Billy, “I’m gonna need you to go back to your car. Let’s get a move on.” He doesn’t want to turn away from Billy even if Hop is blocking their view of each other.Steve wants to protest, but Hopper sounds like he is loosing his patience already, and Steve hasn’t even started talking.

“I said, let’s go!”

“Okay, oaky. Jesus.” He lets Hop lead the way.Before following he throws a look over his shoulder to the blonde that says,_ I’m coming back_. Billy’s eye are trained on him, he can feel them follow him until he is out of sight.

Steve stops as soon at they are to the Beamer, crosses his arms, and looks expectantly at Hooper as he ask, “How’d you know to come here?”

“Max, she radioed the station.” Steve nods listening. He wishes the two police vehicles were out of the way so he could keep an eye on Billy. “Neither Billy or his father realized she was home.”

Hop lets out a deep sigh before he continues,“After Max radioed the station, she tried to stop what was happening, and ended up taking a pretty good hit.” Steve’s eyes snap back to Hopper, he feels anger flooding his veins, mind going to the bat in his trunk. Hopper must senses his thoughts or see them written all over his face because the older man holds up a hand as warning, “She is all right. She’s a tough kid. Sounds like after that Billy fought back. Mrs. Hargrove arrived home toOfficer Powell and myself breaking up the fight between Billy and his father. Listen things, they got pretty ugly between the kid and his old man.” Hopper takes a break to give a glance at Neil Hargrove, who is still in the back of Powell’s car. Steve realizes he is sitting with hands behind his back.

"What’s going to happen now?” Steve asks.

“It’s been a long night, and everyone is very worked up. I don’t think it’s such a good idea for Billy to stay at home…” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Steve uncrosses his arms, holds a hand up, giving his own warning to Hopper, “What’s that suppose mean?” He asks. No way is Billy’s dad getting out of this. No way is he getting back in that house, or around Billy, or Max, or Mrs. Hargrove, for that matter.

“I’ve got to get Mr. Hargrove down to the station to book him.” Hopper is talking purposefully slow like Steve’s brain is as thick as a rock and he’s not sure his words are going to sink in. “Max and her mom need a quiet night, and Billy needs somewhere safe to go.” 

“He can come home with me.” Steve says. Hopper is opening his mouth to say more, but Steve steps forward cutting him off, “He’s coming home with me.”

The chief lifts his hat up so he can run a hand through his hair. There is snow piled on the brim of it, “Didn’t he bust up your face a couple months ago?”

He can’t argue that, it’s the truth after all. “Yeah, w- when you’re seventeen a lot can change over a short period of time.” It’s the best answer Steve’s got, it also happens to be true.

“Are you sure about this?" Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose, and rephrases the question, "You’re sure it’s a good idea?”

Yes and no. Steve’s not sure about anything. He’s seen a monster from another dimension break through the Byers’ ceiling for god’s sake. He’s been part of his fair share of questionable and dangerous ideas, but there is no way he is leaving without Billy. 

Snowflakes had clung together as they fell from the sky. During the drive back to his house Steve only chanced taking his eye off the road to look over at Billy a couple times. Billy had been too quiet. Silent for the entire car ride except when Steve carefully mentioned going to the hospital to get some of his deeper cuts checked out. _No, _had been his response, one word. The tone in his voice had made that one word very convincing. Steve wouldn’t win that fight, so he didn’t try to. Billy sat staring straight ahead, unmoving. Steve hadn't been sure he was seeing the snow covered streets or houses they passed, he could feel the other boy thinking. It felt like there was a storm inside the Beamer. A different kind of electricity had hung in the air. It was dark and Billy was lost in it. The same energy followed them from the Beamer into Steve’s house. 

Steve’s thought about this, what it would be like to have Billy in his home. Imagined he would have a bunch of shit to say. A running commentary, peppered with smart-ass comments. He wouldn’t be intimidated by the size of the house like some people are, he would find a way to tease Steve’s about, ask in a suggestive tone if he'd put all the space to good use. Steve would take any of it, just something, anything, but this silence. Is he brooding? No, brooding isn’t even the right word, it’s not dark enough. One of the kids would have a better word for it.

Steve is at a loss for words too, isn’t sure what to say to a silent Billy. He has a lot of concerns to express, but past experience with Billy tells him he needs to tread lightly. So instead he makes himself busy with trying to find an icepack in the freezer. There isn’t one, he remembers now that he is looking. He made that discovery the night after things went down at the Byers house, when Billy had beat him unconscious. Now he’s searching for one for Billy. It’s all too much to think about, Steve’s not sure his brain has room for thoughts that big right now.

He forces his thoughts back to frozen peas or frozen carrots. It feels like one choice to many, tripping Steve up for a second as he reaches back into the freezer. Probably peas, they’ll make the better ice pack, right? Is that what he had used a for the black eye Billy gave him?

The cut an inch above Billy’s eyebrow that runs into his hairline is the one Steve’s most worried about. Hidden behind blonde curls, Steve noticed Billy’s blood crusted eyebrow before spotting the actual cut. It’s deeper than the one on the bridge of his nose. The swelling would be a lot worse if he hadn’t been standing out in the cold for so long.There are a couple pretty good gashes high on one of his cheek, and a few knuckles are busted open too. Those are just the wounds Steve can see. He knows there are more, the worst ones aren’t physical.

There is a loud thud, the pictures on the wall behind Steve shake. He turns away from the freezer. Billy’s behind him, across the kitchen. Standing with his back flush to the wall, chest rising and falling with labored breathing. He has his arms down, hanging at his side, fists clenched, head bent forward with blonde curls in his face. Steve is too confused to move. Doesn’t know what the sound was until he watches Billy throw his head back, hitting the wall with a violent thud. This time he makes a terrible low grunting scream while he does it, angry and pained. Like an animal caught in a trap.

Holy shit!

Before he can think Steve is moving, bag of frozen peas hitting the floor. He has to stop Billy before he can really hurt himself.

Steve moves fast, crossing the distance between them, but it is not fast enough. With his head falling forward, Billy is set to do it again, like he is trying to bash the back of his skull in. Using his momentum Steve crashes into Billy’s space, hands flying up. He grabs Billy’s head with both of his hands, keeping him from making contact with the wall a third time. Billy catches and grabs hold of Steve’s forearms, so tight it hurts. He snarls, making like he is going to fight Steve. Eyes wild and raw with emotion. He pushes hard on Steve’s arms. 

“No, no, no, no, you can’t do that!” Steve stammers and pleads while managing to hold his ground. It's a moment more of struggle before Steve's words seem to connect with Billy's brain. Breathing hard Billy drops his graze away from Steve’s horrified look, but doesn’t give up his tight hold on him.

“Hey, hey, you’re not allowed to hurt yourself. Okay?” They’re basically the same height, but Steve ducks his own head trying to get Billy to raise his down cast eyes and look at him.

“I need to know that you understand that.” He means it, he is not going to let Billy hurt himself. They’re fixed like that, body to body, both breathing hard. Steve’s finger tips are at Billy’s temples, palms on his cheeks, “Billy, do you understand? I’m not going to let you hurt yourself_._” He’s never been more serious in his life. That seriousness wins out over the quiet panic that he feels. 

Billy responds by loosening his hold on Steve’s arms. One hand moves to take hold of the front of his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric. He doesn’t do anything more than that.

Steve takes it as a sign. Fingertips gently ghosting over a cut as he brings a hand down to rest on Billy’s shoulder. Steve makes sure to keep his touch light, the last thing he wants to do is make Billy feel trapped, but he doesn’t want to take his hands totally off him incase he tries to do another head bash to the wall. They stand like that, Steve staring at Billy, who is staring down at his hand gripping Steve’s shirt. The kitchen is quiet expect for the sound of them breathing. 

Billy finally looks up to meet Steve's eyes. The look in Billy’s eyes, it feels like a sledgehammer hitting him. There are unshed tears caught in his long lashes, the whites of his eyes are red and irritated. He looks like he is going to come apart, like this night broke him. Like Billy Hargrove is going break and shatter into so many sharp pieces that he might never be whole again. Steve knows, he knows that he would do anything to keep that from happening. It feels like an answer, one that Steve didn’t realize he was looking for.

The sound of Billy’s voice surprise him. “Max wasn’t suppose to be at home. The shitbird was suppose to be out doing something with those dumb kids."

Jaw working he turns his gaze away from Steve. Like he’s not seeing the boy standing right in front of him, but instead the events of the night playing out in his mind. Steve's hand stays on Billy’s cheek, keeps the touch gentle. He is still too afraid to let go. 

“My dad - - he. She tried to stop him, pull him off of me,” The hand still holding onto Steve’s arm lets go and falls down, turning into a fist that thumps the wall, “He shoved her so hard it took her right off her feet.” Billy’s voice is way to calm, it’s unnerving how calm it is, given what he is tell Steve. Little tremors running through his body, Steve can feel him giving sporadic jerks.

“Billy - ”

“All these years, all these goddamn, fucking years, Harrington and this the first time I really fought back. Big bad Billy, tuns out he is just a bitch.” His voice is low as he sneers out the last words, mocking himself. Behind the clam that’s settled Steve can see the storm raging inside of him, it’s there in the blue of his eyes.

Of all the things Steve has ever wanted, and he has had some crazy idea of what he thought he has wanted, he’s never wanted something this badly. He’d give anything to help Billy, to stop him from hurting.

Steve shifts forward, feeling the other boy tense at the movement. He slowly rests his forehead to Billy’s forehead, keeps his eyes open as he does it, watches Billy’s eyes fall closed. Steve doesn't actually know what he is doing, but he can't stop doing it, “Hey, listen to me, you were just a kid, you’re still just a kid.” Steve can feel Billy’s body slowly loose the tension it’s holding. Tears finally falling past the lashes of his closed eyes, running down his cheeks, meeting with the palm of Steve’s hand cupping his cheek, “Billy, you need to stop blaming yourself. You can’t blame yourself any more, alright?”

Billy’s eyes snap open, broken blue glare meeting Steve’s own pleading look. Shit, there it is, he’s said one thing too many. Billy has a look, a sudden energy about him like he’s going to try to derail Steve’s gentleness with something angry and sharp. Zero to sixty, that’s how Hargrove runs. Billy brings up his other hand to join the one still fisted in Steve’s shirt. Steve thinks he’s going to try and push him away. He stumble in surprise when instead Billy uses his grip to pull him closer.Pressed this close Steve can feel the tremors running through Billy have turned into him full on shaking. 

“I’m a _fag_.” He forces the words in Steve’s face, nostrils flaring with anger. His voice is challenging, like the statement is a dare. He is watching Steve with hard eyes, expecting a response.

Yeah, Steve knows that word, what it means. Has thought about it more than once over the last couple weeks. He knows it’s a word that doesn’t quite fit him, knows some peoples use it as an ugly and mean word for what Billy is. Most importantly he knows it doesn’t make Billy ugly, not to him, anyway.Steve’s not sure he has the words to tell Billy all of that, he might mess it up, and he doesn’t want to. He’d give anything not to mess this up. Making him feel more than a little desperate.

So instead Steve slides the hand he has on Billy’s shoulder back up to cup his other cheek. On the way up his fingers brushing over the metal chain of the necklace, lingering there for a breath. Billy’s eye are on him from under damp lashes. Watching, waiting, gaze soul piercing. There is that disbelief in his eyes again, like he was sure Steve would hightail it out of there at the admittance of what he is. 

There’s basically no distance between them.

Kissing Billy Hargrove is the easiest thing Steve has ever done. He just presses his lips to the other boy’s. It's chaste despite how their body’s are pushed together. Lips against lips. Steve feels Billy hands pull tighter on the front of his shirt, like a convulsion in response to Steve’s mouth on his. He lets himself be dragged in closer, didn’t think closer could be a thing with how much they are already in each other’s space. Lets the other boy continue to eat up any space there might have been between them. And it feels good, it feels great, it feels like so much. Billy’s defined lips on his.

And then - it’s not, chaste. One open mouthed kiss is all it takes. Lips pressed together, and Billy opens his mouth, and Steve’s mimics, imitates.

No first kiss has ever been like this. Slow, open mouthed, panting, tongues slowly licking.Smells like salt and copper. Blood and tears. Once they’ve started they can’t stop licking into each other’s mouths. Wet and sloppy. Needing to taste. Steve thinks the rest of Billy’s tears must have broken past the dam of his eyelashes. They run salty into their open mouthed kisses. There is something desperate about it, but Steve can’t name what it is. Moans rumble between them as they start rocking against each other needing movement and friction. Needing more.

Billy’s hands let go of his shirt to move around and dig into his back. He lets one of Steve’s hands tangle into the blonde curls at the nape of his neck, while the other finds the necklace, fingers stroking the chain. Billy tries to pull Steve impossibly close. Impossible, because there isn’t any more distance to give up. They’re pressed flush as they grind and kiss. 

Steve feels himself getting hard. He can feel Billy’s cock doing the same. This is new, the feeling of a hardening cock pressed against him. Making Steve want things he knows and things he only has vague ideas about. Hips pressed flush they rock and rut together. Steve moves to wrap an arm around Billy’s waist, hand sliding, feeling as it goes. Muscle, he’s all muscle. They kiss hungrily.

Friction is building. Steve is loosing the ability to think, and the few thoughts he has left are telling him, he still probably needs to think. He breaks their kiss trying to get more air to his brain. The word, _fuck _follows Steve’s lips as he pulls away. He’s not sure which one of them said it.

He goes to press a kiss to Billy’s neck as an apology, lets his tongue lick at the pulse point there. Billy is shaking hard now, has to be worn out with exhaustion, shaking through himself and into Steve. It makes Steve surface. Yeah, he does, he needs to think, needs to be careful with Billy. 

Steve slows it down, despite how good everything is feeling. He moves to press light kisses at Billy’s collar bone then to the soft spot behind his ear. Blonde curls tickling his nose on the way. He lets out a breath that’s a quiet sigh. Billy is pulling at him. Steve assumes he is trying to take things back up a notch. A small smile ghosts across his lips as he presses another soft kiss this time to Billy’s temple. Steve feels the other boy’s movements slow, the grip he has on Steve’s back loosening. His lips gently brush Billy’s cheek before pressing another soft kiss. With the last kiss Steve becomes aware that Billy has gone still. Something has changed. He doesn’t get a chance to fully register the change before Billy is shifting. 

Billy is pulling back even though there is nowhere to go, “It’s too much pretty boy. I need you to stop.” His voice is husky. 

The words filter through Steve’s brain. He meets Billy’s blue eyed gaze. It holds a different kind of rawness. Something close to vulnerability. The looks isn’t one Steve’s imagined seeing from Billy. Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed him like that. Intense, those last kisses were a different kind of intense. Steve thinks he understands, sort of. He nods, tries to mask any self-doubt he is feeling, doesn’t want to put that on Billy. Also tries to not let on how much vulnerability he can see in those blues eyes, doing it for Billy’s pride.

He steps back, untangling himself from from the blonde. Cold, it is a cold, empty feeling. Eyes dropping down for second, catching sight of both the bulges in their pants. It had felt so good. Billy felt it too, rocked and moaned against him.Want still echos in his body, but needs to ignore that right now.

“I’ve got, um. There are clean clothes - of mine, you can have, to wear.” Steve stammers as he gives Billy more space. The other boy is still in his bloody undershirt and jeans.

“You’ve got a bathroom in this castle?” Billy asks, his voice casual. It feels out of place, but Steve tries to match it, knowing they’re both faking it, “Yeah, you can use mine. There should be a first aid kist under the sink too.” He motions for Billy to follow him.

Steve is bent over, palms flat on the baby blue bathroom counter, staring himself in the face, his refection leaves a lot to be desired. He’s treading water. He needs to not think about how worn thin he feels. There’s no space for that shit right now, but he can’t seem to tear himself away from looking at his own reflection, expecting it to give him insight or an answer. He blinks at the feeling of his eyes drying out, breaking the trance.

Splashing cold water on his face actually feels like something, it’s good. Moving on to brush his teeth he notices the bristles on his tooth brush are damp, Billy- Billy probably used it. Steve’s not surprised, and he is too tired to be bothered by it. Plus they’ve already been in each other’s mouths. They kissed - no they made out. It was making out. He had gotten hard, they both had. If Steve hadn’t slowed things down, how far would he have let Billy take it? Although, Billy is the one who stopped it, but would he have stopped it if they had kept going hot and heavy? Zero to sixty. All or nothing...

Yeah, no, those thoughts need to stop. How long has he even been in the bathroom for? Steve runs a wet hand through his hair trying to tame it. 

Billy had been the first to clean up. While he was in the bathroom Steve had gone to gather a few things. He found a pair of clean sweatpants and a t-shirt for Billy to change into. The first aid kit ended up being under his bed. He had pushed his porn magazines farther back while grabbing it. He had also gone to see what kind of painkiller his parents had hidden away in their bedroom. He had come back with the kind you need a prescription for, three yellow pills left over from the root canal his dad had last year. His dad plays golf with a couple of doctors, the pills have to be pretty good. Steve left Billy in his bedroom with the change of clothes and painkillers. Made sure to leave a glass of water too. 

Steve felt like he had taken too long getting ready, but now standing out in the dark hallway, in front of his closed bedroom door he’s not sure he’s given Billy enough time to change. He brings his fist up to knock only drops it back down, feeling unsure. Shifts from foot to foot on the plush white carpet. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath,he lets it out as he finally knocks, slowly opening the door.

“Billy?”

Surrounded by plaid walls, Billy is sitting on the edge of the bed farthest from the door, staring out the window. He is dressed in the things Steve gave him. He doesn’t move to turn around or acknowledge Steve. Beyond his broad frame, Steve can see giant snowflakes as the drift past the window on their way down to the frozen snow coveredground outside. 

He takes another step into his room. Searches for what to say as he waits for Billy to give some sign that he knows he is standing there. Steve realizes he might be waiting for a long time now that Billy appears to have slipped back into silence.

“The guestroom is all torn up, my mom is - you know what, never mind, it doesn’t matter. You can sleep in here tonight.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. He wishes Billy would turn around or at least say something.“Yeah, I’m gonna - a - head down stairs. If you need anything-”

Billy interrupts him, tone distant, “I’m not kicking you out of your own room, Harrington.”

Steve toes at the carpet while he thinks, “Billy, I want you to be - comfortable.” It’s sounds like a question, Jesus. Whatever he was trying to say, he just failed at saying it. 

“I said, I’m not kicking you out of your room.” 

The silence stretches out as Steve stands still and quiet for a stupid amount of time. His brain rolling over Billy’s words as he stares at his back

“Get the light.” There is less nothingness in Billy's voice, his order cutting through the silence. He doesn’t sound as distant as he had when Steve first came back into the room.

The thought sinks in slowly for for Steve, this is Billy’s way of asking him to stay. Billy wants him here or just doesn’t want to be alone. Steve is okay with both.

Dragging his feet, he backs up and flips the light switch by the door. The bedroom doesn't fall into total darkness. The porch light over the sliding backdoor is on, light reflecting off of the snow covered ground casts Steve’s room in a soft glow where it washes in through the windows. It gives a false sense of peace, like the brutal events of the night could pass as a bad dream, until tomorrow morning. 

Billy still hasn’t move, sits still, muscle carved out of stone. Staying, means what? In the bed... together? The way Steve had kissed him at the end had been too much, but Billy wants Steve in bed with him? He’s over thinking it, or under thinking it, or is just tired.

“Is it okay if I get in thebed?” Steve asks before making another move.

“Your room, your bed, pretty boy.” He sounds tired and fed up with how thick Steve is being.

Tonight the sound of the sheets rustling is too loud for the space of Steve’s bedroom. It fills up the room as he settles flat on his back, keeping to one side of the bed. Eyes on the ceiling he waits for Billy. Heart drumming hard despite how tired he feels. The cold sheets warm up. Billy’s got to be like a thousand times more tired than Steve is, but he still hasn’t moved.

It’s clear Billy is lost in his thoughts again. Steve wants to tell him that none of what happened tonight is his fault. That’s he’s not to blame for his dad being the piece of shit that he is, “Listen, the only way for this day to be over is to get some sleep.” Steve says instead, hoping he might get through to him.

Rolling onto his side, Steve is met with a view of Billy’s back. Some of his curls are caught in the collar of the white t-shirt he is wearing. Steve wants to touch, to move the curls and run his hand all the way down Billy’s back. 

“If I messed up in the kitchen, I’m sorry.” He takes a big breath trying to figure out what he really wants to say to Billy,“You’re safe here, I just want you to know that.”

Billy finally turns, looking at Steve from over his shoulder, pulling the curls loose from his shirt. There are butterfly bandages on a few of his cuts, it looks like he did a good job putting them on. This probably isn’t his first time having to use them. Steve can’t help himself, wants Billy to not just know, but believe, “You’re safe here.”

You’re safe. Here. With me.

Billy has a look in his eyes that Steve can’t read, but can feel. Makes a shiver run down his body.

“How far would you have let me take it?”

He wasn’t expecting a question, not one like that. Steve knows the answer, knows he’s about to jump in from the deep end, “As far as you wanted to.” His voice is soaked in honestly, too tired to wrap the words up in anything else. 

“Steve.”

“...yeah?”

“Go to sleep.”

~~~~~~~~~

_"I fucking hate you!"  
_

Billy can still taste the words in his mouth. Jesus, he shouldn’t care. Caring is a trap, but the residue of everything is there, and the words coat his mouth and pump through is veins. 

Blood and spit had flown as he screamed them at his dad. Red in the face, eyes blood shot. The Chief of police had stood between him and his dad.

_"I fucking hate you old man!"_

Half of the kitchen had been over turned, a chair broken, the refrigerator pushed to an angle, the drying rack for dishes on the floor, the dishes that had been in it, broken and scattered. Some pieces crushed to dust. Blood, smeared pools of it on the linoleum.

Max stood in the hallway door pleading at the Chief, _"__It’s not Billy’s fault, It’s not his fault!"_

_"Come on, come on..." _ the Chief - Hopper, had backed Billy up, separating him from Neil, _"__Right now I’m in your corner kid, how about we kept it that way."_

From the other side of the kitchen Neil had been pointing at Billy over the shoulder of the officer that had stepped in to help separated them, _"__I’ve tried to fix you, son! And, there is no fixing you!"_

Susan had got home from wherever she was just in time to witness the whole thing.

_"I fucking hate you old man!"_

He hadn't been able to stop screaming those words.

There is a first time for everything, including telling your dad that you hate him….

Outside Billy had worn a path in the fresh snow. Chief Hopper brought him a pack of cigarettes and a blanket. He tried explaining things to Billy. He had half listened, too lost in his own head to fully follow.

There isn’t any satisfaction from the fight with his dad, it settles nothing. He’s as empty as he’s ever been. Maybe more. The first punch Billy gave Neil was for Max, for laying a hand on her, for making what Billy told himself a fucking lie, that Max was safe from Neil. That he wouldn’t lay a hand on her or his perfect family.

There was time when Billy was really little, he remembers his dad use to be less of an angry asshole, didn’t use his fists as a form of authority.Every punch, every swing that followed the first one was punishment for that memory. Hating his dad for making him hate him. A decade of building rage flowed out of Billy. He thinks all of him came out with it. He’s been emptied and turned inside out. He’s a kind of nothing. Formless, shapeless. 

He is sinking into the bed. The painkiller he took is starting to dull the throbbing pain in his body. It’s working quickly. The sound of snowflakes hitting the window is different than when they land on already snow covered ground. Billy didn’t know it could be a thing, that snow has a sound. No one ever told him. He’s surrounded by the sound of heavy flakes colliding with the windows, and Harrington’s quiet breathing.

He wanted Steve to finish him off. Shredded the last of him. Had offered himself up on a golden platter. _"__I’m a fag." _

Billy didn’t know that kisses could land like a punch. Could sink in deeper. It wasn’t the pushing and rutting, it was the slow and soft that took the ground out from under him. He had to ask Harrington to stop. Like a fucking pansy. The other boy’s comfort, if he took, would break him in a different way. The edge of pleasure, a contrast for the pain of the night. Comfort only added to the storm inside of him.

Crash and burn.

Billy is ash. 

If he closes his eyes, he’s back in the kitchen, at the very beginning…

Neil tried breaking his skull on the linoleum floor. Arm twisted behind his back, and forehead pressed to the the black and white pattern, he had a sideways view of Max running into the kitchen. She wasn’t suppose to be at home. If he had known…

_"Get off of him! Stop it! Stop it!"_

She jumped on Neil’s back. He raised quickly from being bent over Billy, knocking her off. Reached around to get a hold of her blue and red striped shirt, and with all his fury, shoved her back. Billy saw the soles of her shoes as she went flying, feet coming off the ground, red hair falling in her face as she landed on her ass.

_"Don’t you fucking touch her!" _

Rage. Pure red rage. Billy had pushed up from the ground, charged at Neil. Caught him around the waist, like a football player making a tackle. 

Billy startles, catching himself falling asleep.

The drugs are making his eyelids heavy, they feel gummy every time he blinks. He’s fighting to stay awake.

_"You’re safe here."_

Billy turns his head, pillow cool on his cheek. Pretty boy, what is Billy suppose to do with him? He rolls onto his side, him and the painkillers pretending that his body is not fucked up. Legs getting tangled in the sheets.Harrington’s on his side too, face crammed into his pillow, only giving Billy a profile view of him. Billy had been out in the snow, sinking into darkness and Harrington had shown up. Billy can't remember anyone ever showing up for him before. It's another feeling that cuts deep. 

This, it’s the most dangerous part of the night. In bed with pretty boy. It’s easier to closes his eye when he is looking at Steve. The imagine of dark lashes and messy hair burns into Billy’s drugged up brain. In sleep, Steve’s breath comes evenly. Like ocean waves rolling in and out.

Billy’s being dragged out, pulled under. He goes willingly.

The painkillers are good.

Steve Harrington is better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope you feel like it was time well spent <3


	8. No Snare Is Made To Be Gentle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter yet! I kept looking at word count and being shocked. Hopefully the chapter is worthy of its length. Enjoy!

Grey.

The light filtering into Steve’s room is dawn grey. It’s too early, he shuts his eyes to the morning. Eyelids and mind feeling heavy, he could easily fall back to sleep, but his foggy brain is telling him someone else is awake. His eyes flutter back open, fighting to focus.

Billy.

Billy is watching him. His blue eyes looking more alert than Steve could ever hope to be this early in the morning. Zero to sixty. Awake or sleeping. He probably never hits the snooze button on his alarm clock. All Steve wants to do is snooze. Can’t Hargrove look a little less awake? Just even for a moment. 

They’re laying on their sides facing each other. Sharing a pillow? Yeah - they’re sharing a pillow. Even in his sleep Steve is pulled towards him. They’re so close that all Steve can see is Billy, the room behind him is unfocused. Billy with messy blonde curls, blue eyes that have more colors in them than just blue, and those long lashes that ever girl in school loves and is jealous of at the same time. He has butterfly bandages above his eyebrow and on the bridge of his nose. Steve notes the swelling and discoloration around his eyes is doing nothing to make he look less alert.

Steve’s body feels light. He slept in dreamless bliss, it's the best sleep he’s has in months. Deep and nightmare free. Just thinking about it helps his foggy brain and sleep heavy eyelids win. Falling back asleep is so, so tempting, but Billy is awake. Steve fights it, opening his eyes again meaning to keep them open. The daylight is less jarring this time. He shifts, their knees are touching, neither of them move for a second. The contact sends a jolt up to Steve’s brain and down lower to his stomach, muscle clenching as he takes in a deep breath.

“Morning.” Billy finally says as he rolls onto his back. The Butterfly bandages have stayed in place over night, but the ones keeping the cut above his eyebrow closed are tinted pink from blood. 

“Mmm-hmm.” Steve is starting to pull out of foggy sleepiness, but his brain isn’t ready to put words together. Rolling onto his belly, he props himself up on his forearms, wanting to get a better look at Billy’s face. He can feel the the blue eyed gaze burn into him as he hovers over Billy, taking in his freshly healing face. The swelling is not as bad as it could be, all the same they should have iced it last night.

Oh shit, the makeshift icepack. Steve covers his eyes with one hand. The freezer, did he shut it, he doesn’t remember.There is no way he shut it. How long does it take a freezer to defrost? 

“Peas.”

“What the fuck did you jus say to me?” Billy asks, obviously having no clue what track Steve’s train of thought is on.

“And Eggos.” Steve adds like it’s going to make it any clearer. 

“I need a cigarette. Tell me you’ve got one, Harrington.” Billy says, sounding serious.

Steve can feel, and hear Billy as he makes his way out of bed, sheets rustling and mattress moving. Steve keeps his hand covering his eyes. All the parts of last night are making their way to the front of his brain. He and Billy made out. They slept together, or shared a bed, or - whatever. But, first Steve kissed him. Oh god.

Hopper, he said he would call or radio first thing in the morning. Steve wonders what time it even is. He drops his hand and checks the alarm clock. The clock is red to match the framed poster of the red sports car hung above his desk. His mom loves little details like that. Billy Hargrove is in his bedroom. It’s the one room in the house that belongs to Steve, and he didn’t even decorate it. He feel weirdly absent in his own life. The clock reads a quarter to eight. It’s early, probably will be awhile before they hear from Hop.

“Um, yeah, yeah I do. Give me a second.” Steve pulls himself out of bed, feet meeting the carpeted floor.

Billy stands at the window. It’s a trip for Steve to see Billy in his clothes. The comfortable fit of the navy sweat pants and white t-shirt pull a little tighter on Hargrove’s musclier build.

“Looks like we got that snowday everyone was shitting themselves about.” The words are sarcastic, but there is an underlying surprise to Billy’s voice that brings Steve to his feet, and towards the window. 

Holy shit!

Yeah, they did. The world is draped in white. Snow is piled high on everything. It blankets the leafless branches of the trees. The patio furniture, that he never bothered to put away because his parents aren’t here to gripe at him about it, blends in with the snow covered ground. The snow comes up to the bottoms of the chairs, armrests and seats piled high too. Last night was messy and raw. This morning feels quiet, almost peaceful. The hard edges of the world have been rounded by the soft white powder.

There is no way the teacher of Hawkins High are going to be able to dig theirs cars out of the snow in time for school. Not that it matters. The snow plows might get the mains roads cleared, but the sider roads aren’t happening today. 

“You’ve got your firstsnow day, Hargrove.”

Under his bed shoved even farther back than the dusty porn magazines is Steve’s childhood metal lunch box with a red race car on its lid. On hands and knees Steve goes for it, arm reaching long he makes sure to push the skin magazines back farther before he’s drags the lunch box out. He wishes he could shove them out of his room. He doesn’t want Billy to see the naked women that have gotten him off more times than he can count, even if they haven’t done anything for him in months.

In the arm chair, sitting with his back straight and legs spread wide apart Billy watches Steve with interest. Billy’s probably already figured out that Steve is not the most creative when it comes to hiding things. He usually just throws whatever he wants hidden under his bed. For parents to search their kid’s room they actually have to be at home to do it, his aren’t, so.

Steve brings himself back up and sits cross legged on the floor with his back resting against his bed. What is in the lunch box isn’t any different than what Steve knows he put in there. Two lighters, a more than half empty pack of Marlboros, a nugget of weed the size of a small spool of thread, rolling papers, one red swiss army pocket knife, and twenty bucks of emergency cash.

Eyeing the nuggets Billy asks, “You’ve been holding out on me, Harrington?”

Steve scoffs, “It’s old, like really old.”

“Did Wheeler not approve?” Billy asks as he gestures for Steve to hand over the pack of cigarettes. Steve leans forward and Billy does the same, fingers brush as the pack and a lighter gets passed. The touch feels like it was on purpose, but he’s not sure which one of them made it that way. 

Steve leans back, moving out of the crossed legged position to sit with his legs stretched out on the floor, “No, I have shitty dreams. It usually makes them worst.”

He use to love being high and thoughtless. When he smokes now it makes the dreams worse, it makes him paranoid and jumpy as hell when he’s awake too. Steve’s had one of those dreams - nightmares, while sleeping in the Camaro. He waits for a smart-ass comment from Billy, but it doesn’t come. Steve wonders how Billy remembers that night as he watches him light up. Cigarette between his lips, lighter in one hand, the other cupping the flame, eyes watching what he is doing. He’s beautiful. Steve’s known that for a long time, he’s just admitting it to himself now, because sometimes he’s an idiot and slow on the up take.

“Harrington, come in. This is Hopper. Do you copy?” They both jump at the noise. The sound is coming from under the bed.

“Harrington, come in. For the love of god, I don’t have all day.”

Steve reaches behind him, patting around until his hand land on his radio.

“Hey, Hop. I copy.”

Billy’s eyes narrow, like the sight of the radio triggers something in his memory. Steve gives him an apologetic smile, although he’s not sure what he is apologizing for. 

“How are things morning? The roads were pretty bad, did you and Billy make it home last night alright? Over.”

“Yeah, we did. Everything is good here. Over.” He shrugs at Billy looking for him to give some sign that he agrees. They’re good, right?

“If the two of you are together, are you okay with me getting straight to the point? Over.”

Steve gestures with a thumb over his shoulder, “I can go if you want.” It’s clear that Hopper wants to talk to both of them. Steve feels like he should make the offer to step out all the same.

“Whatever, it’s fine.” Billy thumbs his nose and looks away from Steve. He leans forward to ash his cigarette in his empty water glass that’s on the nightstand. The atmosphere in the room has changed. The events of the last night can’t be overlooked anymore. There isn’t enough snow to cover them.

“Any of you shitheads on this channel, need to get off right now.” The kids usually keep their radios set to channel ten. Last night Hop and Steve had agreed to channel eight. All the same he feels like he needs to give the warning. The kids have a real knack for butting in where they shouldn’t. 

Hopper seems to agree with Steve giving the warning by adding to it, “Wheeler that means you too.” Hop draws out Wheeler’s name, conveying the growing annoyance he feels for the kid. 

Steve looks up to see Billy’s eyes narrow as he mouths, _what the fuck._

After waiting a second Hop starts, “Judge Adams can’t make it into town. That means we can’t do anything with Billy’s dad except continue to hold him down at the station. I told Mrs. Hargrove it would be in her best interest to get a lawyer and file a restraining order against her husband.” Billy goes stiff while exhaling smoke through his nose.

“What about Billy? How are we going to keep him safe from his dad?” Steve asks. 

“How’s about you let me finish, kid? Sound good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“Billy isn’t eighteen yet, so we’re going to have to work around that. I have some ideas, but I need to run them by a friend of mine. He works for Child Services in Chicago. He’s going to know how this sort of thing works. Once I have a better idea I’ll let the two of you know. I need you both to hear me when I say Billy’s best interest is the main concern. You two got that right?”

Billy abruptly stands turning to the window that’s next to the chair he had been sitting in. He flicks the lock and slides it open a crack. Steve’s watches as he finishes off his cigarette and tosses the butt out.

“Yeah, okay.” 

"Good." The Chief continues with a more sarcastic tone, “The copious amount of snow our town has been blessed with, means like everyone else the two of you are stuck. No one is going anywhere today. Are the two of you good until tomorrow? Over.”

Steve waits for a sign from Billy but he doesn’t move from the window or say anything. Steve finally brings the radio back up to answer. “Yeah, we’ll do - fine. Over.”

“I got chains on the truck’s tires last night. It’s slow going. If you need anything just radio. I’m going to try and make it into town, but first I’m dropping El off at the Byers’ house. Like I said if you or Billy need anything drop me a line. Over.” 

Hopper truck was made for bad weather and shitty roads, all the same Steve thinks the drive from his cabin to the Byers’ house is going to take at least an hour even with chains on. He keeps his opinion to himself.“Copy that. Over.”

Steve stiffly stands, legs sore from sitting on the ground for so long. He drops the radio on the bed. Billy hasn’t turned to look at him yet. The window has been cracked open long enough that Steve’s bedroom is starting to feel chilly. He wants to touch Billy, reassure him somehow. 

Running a hand though his untamed morning hair Steve keeps some distance between them as he comes to stand next to Billy at the window. He looks out at the snow covered world trying to think of what to say, “If you want to smoke that old ass weed you can, but first we need to eat breakfast. Okay?”

All Steve gets from Billy is a nod.

“So how do you like your eggs?”

Billy turns his head and looks at Steve like he is trying to see him. Looks him in the eyes, searching. The look makes Steve want to try and get his crazy morning hair into place, and brush his teeth too.

“Over easy.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, “Surprise surprise.”

The hanging blinds in the windows are drawn open letting in the grey winter light, filling the living room and kitchen. The two rooms run into each other, both with wood paneled vaulted ceilings. His mom loves to go on about what a vaulted ceiling does for a house. Steve watches Billy take in the large open rooms. He may not be saying anything about the house, but Steve can tell he is cataloging everything. They’re both dressed in sweats and t-shirts like its the required outfits for the snowday. Without his leather jacket, in navy and white cotton Billy looks the same age as Steve. The only other time that Billy hasn’t looked old enough to be a college kid is when they’re in basketball jerseys, and he’s wearing his converse... Or last night, standing here in the kitchen with Steve, looking broken. 

The peas feel mushy in their bag, the freezer isn’t a complete melted mess so Steve tosses the bag back in, shuts the door, and gets to work on making the two of them breakfast. Trying to shake the memory of last night off. 

Billy comes into the kitchen, leans against the dark wooden cupboard that Steve’s going to need to get into sooner rather than later. His blonde curls are frizzy and tangled from sleep. He keeps his eyes on Steve from under long lashes, “Didn’t figure you'd know how to cook. What, with being a rich boy and all.”

There it is. Billy’s smart-ass comment gives Steve a sense of relief. Like things are coming back into balance. He smiles, “If I waited for my mom to come home and make me something to eat I would have starved ages ago.”

The sound of the coffee machine sputtering fills the air, the smell of coffee hitting their noses. Steve usually skips making breakfast, most mornings opting to pick up a bagel on his way to school. Doing this with Billy here, makes him want. Want something more, something lost. When he was a kid this house use to feel lived in. Sunday morning with both his parents at home, sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast together. The radio that matches the clean white counter tops would be playing jazz quietly or some other music his mom likes. That was years ago. Before his dad screwed the secretary, and his mom became what Steve is sure no woman actually wants to become, not so secretly bitter.

“You’re blocking the coffee mugs, Hargrove.” It’s Steve way of asking Billy to grab them. He gets it. Turning around he makes himself useful and brings over two mugs to Steve.

Billy shakes his head as he watches Steve add cream and a spoonful of sugar to his coffee,“That’s disgusting, Harrington.” Billy says as he takes Steve’s coffee mug out of his hand and downs the first of it in a gulp. Licking his lips when he is finished. 

“Fuck you, man.” Steve says with an out stretched hand.

As he hands the half empty mug back to Steve he says.“Real gross.”

Billy drinks his black, no surprise. He smokes by the siding glass door while drinking his first cup. Steve has to wonder if that’s Billy’s morning routine, he looks so natural while doing it.

How they take their coffee has to say something about each of them so does their breakfast.

Billy likes his eggs over easy compared to Steve liking his scrambled. They both have Eggos, only Billy drowns his in syrup, while Steve pours the syrup out in a zig-zap over each waffle.

They both take their time eating, making the morning stretch out into afternoon. 

~~~~~~~~~

Billy is only drifting, eyes closed but not fully asleep. The painkiller he took this morning after breakfast is still working. There is one more left, he is saving it for tomorrow. His body is sore not just from the beating his dad gave him but from fighting back, muscles having worked in a different way.

He felt the bed dip as Harrington climbed in, that was a while ago. His body had radiated warmths, and the clean smell of soap. They’re laying close together, Billy can still smell the soap on his skin.

They smell the same. He showered first while Harrington cleaned the kitchen. The hot water mixed nicely with the painkiller that had started to kick in. Billy can’t remember ever having a shower that good, never ending supply of hot water in a shower that is separate from the tub. It’s a rich man’s luxury. He lazily smelled the shampoos and conditioners before using them, figuring out what bottles Steve’s smell came from.

_"How far would you have let me take it?"_

_"As far as you wanted to."_

He doesn’t think about what he wants to do to the other boy, shoves it to the back of his mind. Billy has always been visual, and his imagination never lacking. In grade school he got in trouble for drawing on his desk, strict teachers rarely appreciated his creativity. He wonders if pretty boy would appreciate it. Harrington had moaned when he licked at his tongue. Had gotten hard for him.

Billy knows it should feel like a victory, having pretty boy get a hard-on for him. Instead it feels delicate, he’s not sure how to handle that. Delicate is not a word that’s been part of his vocabulary. He’s always been too quick to break things. Liking life loud and fast. He took the lesson of not caring to heart. His mom taught it to him when she left. Caring and pain are in the same family. Live under the same roof. 

The sheets rustle as Harrington moves. Billy opens his eye at the noise. They’ve been in bed longer than he thought, there’s not a lot of day light coming in, the sun must be going down. The fading light doesn’t do anything to hide the ugly ass wallpaper. Harrington’s room is expensive, like the rest of the house. Billy’s dad likes to say,_ "money can’t buy you taste." _Like he knows a goddamn thing about having money. It’s his way of trying to shit on people who have more than he does. 

The dark haired boys is pulling in breaths deeper than before, and he keeps making little movements while mumbling. Billy had been thinking about getting up without looking at him, like it might save him some. Instead he lets his head roll to the side, takes in the sleeping boy next to him. Stomach down on the mattress, Steve’s head is turned towards him. The mess of dark hair is mostly pushed back from his face, Harrington is a fitting name.

It’s winding up to be a repeat of the second time Steve fell asleep in the Camaro. The hand by his face pulls into a fist as his body gives a jerk. His breathing is coming faster. His fist unclenches fingers spreading wide, then clawing at the sheet. The next mumble is a word.

_"Run."_

Fuck this, Billy’s got to wake him up. “Steve!” 

Steve’s struggles, pushing up off his stomach onto his knees. White sheets falling off as he goes.Eyes wild just like the night he had woken from a nightmare in the Camaro. He uses one of his hands to push the hair that’s fallen in his face back while his eyes lock with Billy, giving him a look that is asking for answers. Billy’s works himself up into a sitting options, “Think you were having another one of your bad dreams.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve nods while looking around his room. He sounds like he is still far away. Before Billy can say anything else Steve is moving over his legs, getting out of the bed on his side, the one closes to the window. It’s fucking irritating having Harrington climb over him like that. He heads straight for the window. Billy has no fucking clue what he is looking for, but it’s clear that he is looking for something. He can tell that Harrington is scanning the wooded back yard.

Billy leans over and switches the bedside lamp on. Harrington jumps at the sudden addition of warm light to the room. Turning to look over his shoulder his brows pitched together as he throws an annoyed look at Billy.

Pretty boy is starting to make him feel jumpy,“For fuck’s sake, you’re making me nervous, Harrington. What gives?”

“It’s nothing, man. Just-” Steve kick the metal lunch box over as he moves from the window. The little nugget of weed comes tumbling out of it onto the white carpet. “Shit. If you’re not going to smoke that I’m going to throw it out.” He finishes as he picks up the lunch box and drops the weed back in. 

Tossing the sheets the rest of the way off, Billy stands up. “Well, well, well, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed.” 

“It was your side, asshole.” Steve snaps back. There is fire in his voice. 

Billy sneers, he can feel it spreading across his face. The fire behind Steve’s words making him feel like an addict, Giving him a craving. He grinds his teeth. He breaks things, he doesn’t want to break this. So he holds his tongue, while his hand reaches out for the lunchbox, taking it with a forceful pull. 

They switches sides, both needing to move before they do something they regret. Billy goes to the window, eyes searching for the unknown thing from Steve’s nightmare. Empty pool and left out patio furniture, all snow covered. It’s not much of a backyard. One smaller patio that starts from the back door leads down to the bigger pool area, there is most likely a grassy strip or something before the yard turns to woodland. In the dying light of they day the woods already look pitch-black. Steve was searching like he believes somethings could be out there. It give Billy the heebie-jeebies and makes him want the city lights of LA.

He turns around to find Steve sitting on the floor, resting against the bed. He’s got his head in his hands, hair spilling out between splayed fingers.Billy slides down the wall, body protesting at the movements. The painkillers are helping, but his dad got him in the ribs with more than one punch. He grunts as he settles on the floor back resting flush to the ugliest plaid that anyone has ever laid eyes on. Billy figures sitting on the floor with Steve is the best way to make a truce.

Using the lunch box as a surface to work on Billy makes himself busy, splitting open a cigarette. Divvies up the the tobacco and breaking up the bud. Starts working on rolling a couple of spliffs.

Steve’s jittery. Head still obviously in the nightmare. He scrubs both hands over his face, not paying attention to Billy. What the fuck does he dream about? He could tell Harrington to plant his feet and move on, but in this moment Billy doesn’t really want to leave it alone. Figuring because he’s let it slide before, he doesn’t need to this time around.

“Truth or dare.” Billy casually asks. He’s asks this before. They don’t have a lot of good history to stand on, but Billy figures it’s got to count for something.

Steve looks up at him, he looks angry. Eyes wide, looking to judge Billy.

“Harrington, say truth.” This time around his curiosity isn’t mean spirited, he can understand why the other boy thinks it is, given what went on between them when he first arrived to this shithole town. Billy brings the spliff to his mouth wetting the paper with saliva, and then drying it with the lighter. Eyes watching his work, while he thinks of how to ask the question with out pissing pretty boy off. The rolling paper shrinks, keeping the weed and tobacco closed in tight.

“Truth.” There is a warning in Steve’s voice. Pretty brown eyes, oh so serious. It would be easy for Billy to taunt him.

Billy nods in appreciation, brings the spliff to his lips, lighting it up. Keeping his eyes on Harrington while he does it, trying to gauge where the other boy is at. Drawing in a breath, smoke fills his lungs.

On the exhale he asks, “What do you dream about?” Smoke coming out with his words.

There is a spark in Steve’s eyes that immediately leads to a far away look, one that keeps going back, layered. Like walking down a hallway and for every step you take it grows a step longer. The hair on the Billy’s arms stands up. He has the sensation of being on a rollercoaster and dropping down. His stomach give an uneasy kick.

Steve holds his gaze, must be watching and reading Billy’s thoughts. He slowly leans all the way forward, hand reaching for the spliff, taking if from between Billy’s fingers. For a second Billy is going ask him if he should be smoking, but then he’s no babysitter, so. 

Leaning back he closes his eyes as he takes a hit. Opening them to give Billy one more hard look before exhaling. 

“Tunnels.”

“Tunnels?” Billy huffs out a laugh that quickly dies as it crosses his lips, the smirk that accompanied it fading just as fast.

Tunnels. It makes senses. It’s a clear sound in his brain, like the snap of fingers. Tunnels. At the arcade, hadn’t the kids been talking, saying something about tunnels when they were getting out of Harrington’s car? That’s just a piece, the big picture is Byers’ house and all those creepy drawings. They had been all over, a backdrop. Billy hadn’t register what they were, too caught up in his own rage, “What about them?” He asks, a chill moves down his spine.

Steve’s eyes are wide, Billy has the feeling that he’s silently pleading with him. Pleading for him to back off and let it be. Steve takes a long hit from the spliff before handing it back over. Let’s Billy take another one too, like he’s waiting.

Billy pushes for an answer, “Can’t be that bad, Harrington.” It’s a lie, Billy knows before the words come out his mouth, but he can’t stop himself from trying to tell it. 

Steve looks like he is done weighting his options. He sighs, “There are tunnels running under most of the town, they start at the lab.” He licks his bottom lip and runs a hand through his hair, “Billy, listen I’ve singed like, real government papers about this shit. People I care about could get in a lot of very real trouble. Okay?”

“So what? Did you get over zealous while trespassing?” Billy asks trying to follow. Ashing the spliff on the lid of the lunch box as he asks. According to pretty boy, he shouldn’t even be smoking this, he must really want to take the edge off.

“This isn’t a joke, man.”

“Does it look like I’m laughing, _Steve_?” Billy shoots back. 

“Max was there. This needs to be kept quiet for her, and the other kids, alright?”

Goddamn that shitbird. What the hell did Maxine get herself into? Billy’s eye narrow, mouth opening to draw in an angry breath. “Start talking.”

“Listen, the only reason we didn’t get dragged in by the government this time around, and yeah I said this time, is because there wasn’t anyone left alive at the lab to see us.”

Billy’s forgot about the lit spliff pinched between his fingers until it is burning him. He quickly puts it out on the lid of the lunch box while asking, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“There are things here, in this town. Just - look, what the news said about the lab doing experiments was true, they just lied about what kind. That night things weren’t suppose to get as complicated as they did. It’s just those shitheads have a way of finding trouble, or chasing after it.” Steve makes a gesture with his hands like that’s the end of the conversation, like he needs to cut himself off before he says too much, “I can’t say any more. There are over a hundred pages of legal papers that say I never should have opened my mouth. I’m done talking, amigo.” 

This conversation is far from over. Billy has a hundred questions he is ready to demand answers for, one of them being, what in the hell did you let my sister get herself into? Steve is about to clam up though, and Billy’s needs to think fast.

“What do you dream about?” Same questions, but it's asking for more without directly asking what the fuck this is all about.

Steve lets his head fall back to rest on the bed. Huffs out a tired and frustrated breath, “Tunnels, the kids getting lost in them. Not being able to save them, let alone find them. Dogs with no eyes and flowers for faces, but like ugly slimy flower faces. Dying in my pool. And _you_.”

It’s a fucked up list and Billy is on it. It feels like being wounded. Like getting surprised by a knife to the gut, “I’m one of your nightmares, Harrington?” He asks, voice rough.

“You asked me what I dream about.” Steve drops his eyes to study Billy.

“So, no?” Jesus, he shouldn’t care, but he hears himself asking anyway. Give him a knife, he’d slit his own throat if it kept him off that list. He’d do it right now while wearing his smoothest smile. Flirting with death.

“No.” 

The relief Billy feels at Steve’s answer is just as sharp, “Everything else is?” He asks trying to get a clearer picture.

“Yeah.” Steve’s eyes drift back up.

Steve said a lot and Billy has other questions, “You said this wasn’t the first time. How do you know it won’t happen again? Billy asks, wanting to get back on track.

“Shit if I know, buddy. For right now can you just do me the favor of leaving this alone.” Steve keeps his head tipped back looking up at the ceiling while asking. Long neck and adam’s apple on display. 

Billy picks up the lighter, spins it between his fingers while he thinks. There is shit he wants to know. If he pushes right now it won’t get him answers. He knows Steve is not going to answer questions about the tunnels or flower face dogs. What the fuck kind of breed could that even be? He mentioned experiments, on what the dogs? Billy’s heard of guard dogs ripping people apart. That would add up to the dead people at the lab. It’s a picture, not the clearest, it’s violent, and the government is involved in some way. Maybe Billy can understand why Steve would won’t it left alone.

Leaving it alone, Steve’s phrased it as a favor, Billy’s has to admit that his ears pricked up at the word. A favor done is a favor owed, but then this whole situations involves Maxine…

“I’d really like to not think about it, Hargrove.” Steve adds like he can hear Billy’s thoughts.

“How much do you not want to think about it? Scale of one to ten?” Billy knows how to be distracting. It send a little shock of thrill through him getting to play this game with Steve. He leans forward resting an arm on a bent knee.

Steve is back to studying him. Pretty doe eyes and dark lashes. He tips his head, like changing the angle he is looking at Billy from might give him a better read, “Am I going to regret saying ten?” He finally asks.

He feels like a predator who is about to catch its prey. The feeling goes to his head, he is almost giddy with it. “Truth or dare?” The words are a purr. 

Steve shakes is head but looks curious. “Don’t do that, Billy.”

“Come here.” It’s Billy at his finest, all his charm just for a Steve. Lets it roll off of him and fill the room. He want to bring pretty boy to him, like a moth to a flame. Nothing about it is hollow, or fake. It’s satisfying as hell. He motions with his fingers calling the boy over.

~~~~~~~~~

It’s a dare.

It makes Steve run hot. He could tell Billy to fuck off, but he wants to be distracted by Billy. Also distracting him from asking any more questions would be a good thing too. Two birds one stone? kind of sort of - sure. More than anything Steve is done with thinking right now. In this moment it feels overrated. 

Billy’s leaning against the wall under the window with his feet flat on the ground, knees bent, legs spread wide. The hand resting on top of one of his knees makes a, _come here _motion. There is room between his legs Steve could fit in. Billy follows Steve’s gaze like he is following his thoughts. 

The distance between them is only from the bed to the window. It isn’t far. It would feel weird to stand up and walk over when it’s such a small space. Scooching across the floor on his knees would just be awkward. He’s not going to look like an idiot in front of Billy.

Steve can play this game, at least he thinks he can. His heart is hammering in his ears and pounding in his chest as he move out of his cross legged position, and onto his knees, then finally his hands. Carpet rough on his palms. He can’t look at Billy while doing it, tries to swallow down his nerves before raising his head, hair falling in his face.

If this was the playground and they were kids, this is the point where Steve would double dog dare Billy, raising the bar to his original challenge. 

Billy’s pupils are blown out. Want. The look on Billy’s face is one hundred percent want.Because Billy is - queer. Because he likes guys. Steve on his hands and knees like this is doing something for him. It’s suggestive. Suggestive of something Steve doesn’t have a clear understanding of, how it works between two guys. All he knows is in this moment the way Billy is looking at him is making the blood rush to his cock… or maybe it’s being on his hands and knees that's doing it… or both.

Steve doesn’t need to crawl forward because Billy is moving. He is leaning forward until he is on his knees too. He reaches out to grab Steve by the nape of his neck, and drags him in for a kiss. Their clothed knees digging into the carpet as they push up, arms wrapping around each other for balance, and for the sake of touching. Steve’s not sure who is kissing who.

They keep changes angles, finding all the different ways it feels good to have their mouths working together while their hands explore each other. Fists bunching in fabric then pulling and pushing. Steve is careful of the bruises on Billy's body. Would apologize when he thumbs into one but he thinks Billy would be more frustrated with him breaking the the kiss.

Last night feels like a life time ago. These kisses feels less broken, less like he’s trying to hold Billy together and more - - it just feels like way more. 

Steve opens his mouth, and Billy takes advantage, kissing him like he is rushing to get where they didn’t make it to the first time. Billy is driving fast. It’s hot and heavy. Tangle together both of them are hard in their pants. Billy breaks the kiss, Steve opens his eye to the wet sensation of his top lip being licked. Their eyes lock as the tip of Billy’s tongue starts on its path, following the bow of Steve’s top lip from one corner of his mouth to the other. Steve’s fingers flex on Billy’s back, stretching out, then grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt, holding on for dear life. 

“Jesus.” It comes out on a shaky breath Steve exhales.

Billy’s nose brushes his cheek as he brings he mouth to Steve’s ear. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

“- yeah, okay.” Billy’s words feel more like a warning, he’s worked up and might take this past the edge. It’s overwhelming, but Steve wants it. Needs to find out what this is.

Billy’s licks back into Steve’s mouth while pressing forwards, pushing on top of him. Forcing Steve onto his back. The bed is right there, but it’s also too far away. On top of Steve, Billy is moving to get one of his legs between Steve’s legs. Giving them both a thigh to rub up on. First contact has Steve moaning as Billy fists a hand into his hair, pulling hard. Forcing Steve to expose his neck, making it easier for Billy get his hot mouth on him. He licks wet at the long column of Steve's throat.

The two layers between them is two too many. The soft cotton of their sweatpants rubbing, teasing. Billy’s grunts as his fingers search out the waistband of Steve’ssweatpants. He’s gotten so hard, the head of his cock has popped past it, the way they’ve been rutting together helping to free it. The elastic band keeps pressure on the fat vain under the swollen head, keeping Steve between heaven and hell. Wanting more, but not wanting to give up what already feels so out of this world good.

Fuck.

This feels so good. Steve runs his hands down the hard muscles of Billy’s back exploring, working up the t-shirt to touch skin. He pulls at the shirt, making Billy stop his pursuit of getting Steve’s pants down. Muscle, it’s all hard muscle, it’s what he’s made out, and Steve is all about it, the feeling of Billy’s body setting fire to his brain. Burning up rational thought.

A shirtless Billy press down, flat to Steve. With a tight hold on him, Billy is rolling them over. It’s a novelty getting manhandled. Steve is pretty sure he swears as they turn over. Billy is quick to push at his hips with both his hands, thumbs digging in above bones. Steve raises on his knees while pulling his shirt off over his head, movements hurried, less than graceful.

Billy lifts his hips and Steve moves to help him work his pants down, pulls them down until Billy’s cock pops frees. He has never seen another cock - like this. One that is hard - that is hard for him. It’s thick, big, swollen, and dark red. In school during sex -ed his teacher referred to dicks as a sex organs, too embarrassed to call them anything else, that's what Billy's cock is, it looks like it only purpose is for sex. The tip is shining wet with precome. Steve lets his fingers ghost over Billy’s abdomen and hip bones. Touching all around his hard-on, mind feeling too overwhelmed to actual touch it. 

“Pull yours down for me.” Billy orders. His eyes are burning into Steve with a look of hungry satisfaction.

Steve is panting. Stupidly nodding, _yes_ to what is being asked of him. Showing his aching hard cock. It feels pornographic exposing himself. He doesn’t stop, even when his cock is bobbing in the air, he keeps going until Billy is grabbing at him, forcing their mouths back together. Bringing him back down. 

Skin on skin. Steve quickly finds out being on top makes it easier to hump Billy’s thigh. He moves forward, giving more of his own thigh for Billy to rut up onto. The feeling is wild, pushing and pulling at each other. Steve knows he is being loud, the sound he is making, the way he is moaning, he hears himself like he is under water.

Billy’s hands run from Steve’s shoulders down his back, to his waist, and then farther down to the swell of his ass. Palms pressing to his two round cheeks, Billy sinks his finger into the flesh, taking hold and pushing down. Urging Steve to hump his thigh faster and harder. 

Steve breaks from the kiss needing to see how their bodies look working together like this. Pressing his forehead to Billy’s shoulder Steve arches his back up so he can look between them, down past their chests and stomachs, down to where their cocks are rubbing together. His leaving a messy trail of precome from the tight muscles of Billy’s stomach to his hipbone, to where the hip meets leg. There is a similar shiny wet mess on Steve.

“Oh, god - oh my god.” Steve’s loosing his grip, is getting lost. 

Billy turns his head, puts his lips to Steve’s ears, voice thick, “I’ve thought about this. Thought about doing so many dirty things to you.”

Steve can feel the rumble of Billy’s voice as they rut together, chasing as much friction as they can get. His brain can’t even begin to process what those things would be, but it doesn’t need to, the implication of them makes Steve’s balls pull up that much tighter to his body. Like his body knows what it wants and his clueless brain can take a hike. He holds on tighter to Billy.

Steve’s balls ache, body humming with the need to come. With a tight hold on Steve’s asscheeks Billy pulls them apart while forcing Steve to grind hard and rough on his thigh. The feeling of cool air hits his spread crack and tight hole.

“I bet you’d be so good for me. Wouldn’t you, pretty boy?” Billy’s words rolling off his lips and in to Steve.

Billy wants to fuck him, the thought lights up Steve’s brain, makes him ache from deep inside. The ache is coated in arousal.That’s the edge, the surge of pleasure. His come is splattering between them. Steve buries his head in the crook of Billy’s neck, body spasming through the pleasure. For a second he’s gone to it, checked out. The only grip he has on anything is on Billy. Arms wrapped around him, fingernails bitting into the blonde’s shoulders.

Steve is aware that Billy has let go of his ass, arms come to wrap back around him, bringing them tight, and flush together. The world is turning again. He’s being moved onto his back.

Steve blinks to clear his sight. He is on the ground, but he feels like he is floating. 

Billy is hovering above him, straddling his leg but raised off it, no longer using it to rut on. He steadies himself with a hand high on Steve’s hip. Blonde curls damp with sweat, necklace clinging to his chest. Pushing up on his elbows Steve needs to get his mouth on Billy’s. He stops half way when Billy moves his hand and presses it to his own chest. 

The mess of Steve’s release is smeared on both their bellies. Starting from his chest where the mess begins Billy runs his fingers down through it getting them coated in Steve’s come. He keeps going down, past dark blonde curls at the base of his cock until his hand is wrapping around his own dick.

Steve’s spent dick gives a kick, like it might be able to push out another glob of come from this sight alone. His mind is already in pieces and watching Billy use his come as lube while he is jacking off might just shred what is left of it.

They’re panting together, Billy’s lips are parted bring in shaking breaths, they’re candy red from all the kissing. He’s stroking himself hard and fast. Steve’s fingers dig into the carpet, a reflex from wanting to touch the other boy. Billy is shuddering and grunting. Steve looks up to meet his burning blue eyes. 

Needing to kiss Billy is a real need. Not a _want,_ but a _need_. Steve pushes up, one hand reaching to take hold of Billy by the back of his head and bring him in. Steve presses his lips to Billy’s. It’s one, two, three kisses before Billy gives a sharp spasm and hot come is hitting Steve’s chest.

The keep kissing, passing one breath back and forth between them, all the oxygen gone from it. Neither of them caring about the lack of coordination or how they trip over each other finally getting in bed. 

~~~~~~~~~

Before he fell asleep Steve muttered, "_You were suppose to be distracting me from something. I can’t remember what it was." _The lazy, tired smiles on his face had worked into his voice as he said it. Made it sound like an inside joke, like they have something to share.

Billy shakes the pack of cigarettes, makes a quick count. There are three left. He had waited for Harrington to fall asleep before getting back up. The dull thud of pleasure still courses through his body, but it’s not enough to make him sleep or for him to lay still in bed. What happened between them is everything he wanted and nothing he wanted at the same time. It's the nothing that is keeping him up. It’s the nothing that has him sitting in the chair across from the bed watching Steve sleep. He could smoke a whole pack right now, finish the three he has left in one inhale.

He got his come on Steve, had gotten to be dirty and filthy with the other boy. Made him moan, so fucking loudly. But staying in a bed with Harrington is too much, just like his soft kisses had been too much.

Something is wrong with Billy. He is fucked up in more ways than he can count.

In his sleep Steve rolls over, moving to pull Billy’s pillow to his body, wrapping him arms around it. He pushes his face into it and mumbles. Billy gets up, quietly pulls the chair across the carpet, brings it up under the window. He slides open the window a crack, just enough for the smoke to escape. Sitting back down he lights up. Cigarette pinch between his fingers he leans back in the chair. Watches Harrington from under his eyelashes as he smokes. Billy could get hard just from looking. He is so fucking pretty, all that dark hair and all that skin on display. There are enough moles on his skin that Billy thinks about connecting them with lines, maybe using a sharpie to make them into constellations.

While mapping out the constellations in his mind Billy starts on cigarette number two, it is as good as the first one. He fucking wishes he had a whole pack.

Steve starts moving in a way Billy doesn't like. These movements aren’t peaceful, a hand stretches open only to pull closed quickly, then after a pause his feet give a kick under the covers. Billy recognizes the movements, they’re the ones Steve makes when he is having a nightmare. Like he is reaching for something and can’t find it, or trying to run. He is mumbling more now too.

Leaning forward Billy looks at the half smoked cigarette between his fingers and then back up to Harrington. Taking a drag as he stands he thinks about walking away, about leaving. He could put on his boots and get the fuck out. Just go and not look back. He shouldn’t care but he does. It’s the truth, he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t. The truth feels big and hard to swallow.

Cold air fills his lungs as he flicks his unfinished smoke out the window, he hears it hiss as it hits the snow before he closes the window.

He doesn’t know how to do this. His want has grown into something that is past his understanding. There is no road map to follow.

He circles around the bed, eyes on Harrington the whole way. Both times Billy has woken Steve from one of his nightmares, he has been jittery and off. Billy’s not in the mood to try and navigate a jittery Harrington. He stops once he’s made it to the other side of the bed. Steve is on his side, back towards Billy.

His mumbles are forming into words. Billy would slit his own throat before becoming one of those nightmares, so he crawls into bed, lays on his side and moves closer to Steve. Moving into his warmth with caution and care, both things feeling foreign to him. Wrapping an arm around him, Billy lets his hand rest on Steve's stomach, keeping the touch light, trying for gentle.

He puts his lips to Steve’s ear…

Billy doesn’t know how to do this. Give comfort. If caring is a trap, he’s snared.

…“It’s only a bad dream, pretty boy. Nothing to worry about. Not tonight.” Says it quietly, voices rumbling low. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a scale of one to ten. How in love with Steve is Billy? 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Undivided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you all like this chapter. I've been working at it for weeks trying to get it just right. Thank you all for taking the time to read it. 
> 
> This chapter is 2/3 plot and 1/3 porn. I guess the porn is still plot.. I think. Please read the tags I've added.

Another snowday separates Billy and Steve from the outside world.

Music from the radio in the kitchen drifts into the living room. Steve turned the radio on while he was doing the dishes, hoping the noise would take up some space. They got up so late breakfast turned into lunch. Steve rolled with it, made grilled cheese sandwiches, and heated up Campbell’s tomato soup on the stove top.

Most of the morning he and Billy spent dancing around each other.

Steve had made coffee before he started making their first meal of the day, lunch. Billy had come up behind him, pressed in close, and looked over his shoulder putting something close to butterflies in Steve's stomach. Without saying a word he reached around him to pick up his coffee mug from the counter. Turning around had put him and Billy toe to toe. He watched as the other boy drank. Billy smiled big and wide while setting the mug back down. "_Real gross, Harrington. Men don’t gussy up their coffee with cream and sugar." _That might have been what he said, but he drank the first half of Steve’s coffee for the second morning in a row._ _

Billy had sauntered away with is own cup of black coffee in hand.

Steve doesn’t know what do with himself, feeling an uncomfortable mixture of eager and unsure. There is no point of reference for how this is suppose to work. All the movies, stories, all of anything he’s ever seen has been about the guy getting the _girl. _How does they guy get the guy? If that’s what he wants and he is starting to feel like it is. Steve is having a hard time figuring out if Billy is feeling the same or if he is just antsy from being stuck inside. Maybe he is really craving a cigarette? Whatever it is he is on edge.

The blonde, dressed in yesterday sweats and t-shirt is leaning up on the back sliding glass door. Cigarette tucked behind his ear and lighter spinning between his fingers. He stares out into the bright day. The kind of winter day where the sky is deceivingly blue, if it wasn’t for the snow you’d think it could be July, and not December.

Steve has gotten comfortable on one end of the couch, back resting on the armrest, feet up off the floor. Tries not to be too obvious about how he is straight up staring at Billy. The two of them haven’t talked about his dad yet. Maybe they should? Steve made a point of not bringing it up yesterday, waiting to see if Billy would bring it up first. They also haven’t talked about last night or this morning…

This morning, Steve’s first waking thought had been a disjointed understanding that he and Billy were tangled together. He had been using Billy’s chest as a pillow. Slowly coming to he lacked the focus needed to be embarrassed about the way he was draped over the other boy, or the way their legs criss-crossed under the sheets. His sleep had been restless at first then faded into something deep, much needed, and very hard to wake up from. Billy’s hand rested between his shoulder blades, the weight of it anchored Steve to him. The warmth of Billy’s body pulled him back under into dreamless bliss until one or both of their stomachs had rumbled. The sound echoed into Steve’s ear. 

_"We’re going to have eat at some point, pretty boy."_

"Mmhmm_. Just first…just five more minutes."_

_"Your five minutes were up ten minutes ago." _

Steve raised his head and Billy’s pendant had stuck to his cheek. Held on until he moved to rest his chin farther down on Billy’s chest. He looked up at him, eyes tried to blink the blonde into focus. Watched as a lazy smile spread, not big enough to show his California pearly whites, all the same it made Steve smile back at him without giving it a thought. Lionel Richie’s, Easy, Like Sunday Morning, ran through his head. He managed to have enough of a brain to not sing it to Billy.

Billy’s thumb had brushed over the necklace imprint on his cheek. The defined mark a sign of how long Steve had been using him as a pillow for. He leaned into Billy’s touch as the thumb had made its way from his hot cheek to his bottom lip. Rough pad rubbed until Steve’s smile faded, mouth opening. Steve’s heart had kept a beat like a drummer in one of Billy’s heavy metal bands, put the tempo of Richie’s song to shame. He planted a kiss on Billy’s sleep warm skin, and then another, and another. Worked his way down... wanted... to taste. He wanted to taste Billy, more than the thumb that had pushed onto his tongue. The drumming beat of his heart moved up to play in his ears too. Billy’s fingers tangled in his hair. Stomach muscles jumped under Steve’s lips.

That’s when Hopper’s demanding voice abruptly come booming from the radio on bed side table. They both jumped at the sudden interruption. 

Billy had something to say about it. Snarled out, "_Fuck your goddamn walkie-talkie!"_

_"A walkie-talkie is only a two way radio, man." _With that one response Steve felt like he reached nerd territory.

Hopper wanted the them to know that most of Hawkins still hand’t been able to dig themselves out of the record breaking snow fall and that they would need to sit tight until tomorrow morning.

Pushing the memory of this morning out of his thoughts, Steve is about to make an offer that he’s been holding off on. Trying to see if that’s where Billy’s head it at, he asks. “You know if you want to talk about your dad we can. Or like, you can talk and I’ll listen.”

Billy turns to look at Steve, studies him. Takes the cigarette from behind his ears. The sun shining through the window makes a halo of his blonde curls, earring catching the light too.

“The bad dreams, how often do you having them?” Billy asks changing the direction of the conversation before it even starts.

“I - um - I don’t know. A couple times a week?” Steve stumbles over the change. His answer is so lame he can’t even believe it. He tries to compose himself, runs a hand through his hair.

Billy moves from the window to sit at the opposite end of the couch from Steve. Leans forward to pull the ashtray on the coffee table closer. "You know I don’t like being lied to.”

He doesn’t believe Steve’s answer either. Great. Just great.

He sits up, wanting to be at eye level with Billy. “Okay,so - it’s more often than that. It’s not like I’m keeping count or anything.” What he just said is true. He hasn’t been counting. What would even be the point? There’s been too many.

Billy’s voice is casual, almost like he is uninterested. “You ever think you might have less if you talked about them.” Looks over, while lighting up, waiting for Steve to say something. Blue eyes lazily sizing him up from under long lashes. 

Steve doesn’t take the bait. They settle into a staring contest. Steve watches Billy blow smoke out his nose before running his tongue over his teeth. He shrugs, it’s a,_ have it your way, _kind of shrug. Steve rolls his eyes in annoyance, knows somethings is come.

“I’m just spitballing here, Harrington. Feel free to correct me if I get something wrong.” Billy takes a drag before continuing. “The lab, the experiments they were doing, were on the dogs. I’ve heard that folks will pay good money for a guard dog. I’m thinking they were doing something - to - make the dogs more aggressive or stronger. Maybe both.” While talking Billy makes a circler in the air with the hand holding his cigarette, smoke trails in a wavy circle like he is spinning the story out of it. “Maybe some of the dogs got through the tunnels and out into Hawkins. I’ll be honest, I’m stumped about how your pool fits into all of this, but then maybe its it own thing.” Billy leans back putting a hand behind his head, looking pleased with himself. “So how’d I do?” He asks.

Steve stares at Billy, eyes blinking a couple times as his brain sorts through the story. He’ll give Billy points for creativity for sure, but - like - shit. Shit! Hargrove is as good as a dog with a bone. They’re always going to circle back around to this. To Billy wanting answers.

There is an uncomfortable feeling working its way under Steve’s skin. He’s tempted to tell Billy how wrong he is… in detail. He pushes that thought back, but it doesn’t get very far, gets jammed up on the memory of last night. Last night when they were talking, when Steve said more than he should have, before the two of them- 

“Yeah, no. Sorry buddy, but you’re not even close.” Answering to distract himself from his traveling thoughts, Steve’s voice is flat and serious. 

“Ballpark?” Billy give him one of those charming smiles that Steve is sure gets him pretty much anything he wants.

“Yeah, no.” Steve is this close to telling Hargrove to fuck off.

“I can always ask _Maxine_.” The gleam in Billy’s eyes says it all.

Why’d he have to go and play that card? Steve straightens all the way up, can feel his eyebrows pinch together in seriousness.“Jesus Billy, I’m not screwing around. This isn’t some game. I’m talking jail time and families being destroyed. You’re taking aim at a hornet’s nest.”

“I can keep a secret, Harrington.”

He is still way too relaxed for Steve’s liking. “Have you ever thought this might not be the kind of secret you want to keep?”

“Try me.” He leans forward to put his smoke out in the ashtray.

“Barbara Holland died in my pool.” The words are out his mouth, like a flood of guilt. There's a beat before Billy turns to look at Steve, the relaxed look having left his face. “You sure you want me to keep going?” Steve asks before Billy can say anything. His tone makes it sound like more of a warning than a question. 

He pause then give the cigarette another hard press into the ashtray before turning back to look at Steve and ask. “That’s the chick who went missing last year, right? That’s a year before we got to this shithole town. How in the hell can Max be caught up in that?" He asks finally serious.

“Because that was the first time.”Steve can hear the heavy implication in his own voice. The first time was crazy messed up, but the second times takes the cake. The second time is where most of his nightmares come from. 

“I’m older. She’s my responsibility. Start talking.” He hisses the words out, It’s not a request.

Steve holds his hands up in surrender. Yeah - shit. If he was in Billy’s shoes, he’d probably wouldn’t leave it alone either. A couple months ago and Steve would have laughed at the thought of Billy being a protective older brother. Now he gets it. It’s not conventional, how Billy goes about looking after Max. The way Billy cares, shows it, is rough around the edges, unrefined. 

“_Fine_, fine, you’re going to think I’m nuts, but whatever, that’s just fine.” Because the whole things is nuts. Real, but completely crazy. He had danced around Jonathan’s living room in a panic, going on about how crazy it was. Not his finest moment, not by a long shot. 

Steve starts at the beginning. Fumbles a couple times and stammers over parts, explaining what he can, but leaves out some details, like he is giving the Cliff Notes version of the Upside Down. Billy sits listening, occasionally making a face as he reacts to Steve’s story. Icy blue eyes, roam over Steve, searching his body language and eyes. Steve does his best to hold eye contact, but he has to look away a couple times, the intensity of Billy’s gaze getting to him. When he gets to the part about the tunnels, about getting all of the kids out expect for Dustin- _he didn’t get Dustin out,_ Steve breaks out into a cold sweat, rubs a hand on the back of his neck. If El closing the gate had happened thirty second later he and Dustin would have been Demo-dog treats. The kid would have died because he wasn’t quick enough. Steve hates how the knowledge of that feels.

Billy. If Billy doesn’t believe him, how in the hell does Steve keep him safe?

“Listen, if you ever see something you can’t explain, the first person you go to is Hopper and the secondis - I can’t believe I’m saying this, Mike or Nancy Wheeler.” He says Mike because chances are good if shit happens with the Upside Down again Mike will be glued to El’s side. His money is on her in a fight. The girl had made a good first impression on Steve when she used her mind powers to throw a Demo-dog through the Byers’ front window. Not that Dustin and Lucas aren’t totally capable, it’s just they don’t have powers. It’s basic logic, if the end of the world is happening who do you pick first for your team? The kid with superpowers or the one without? Also if Billy tried to do anything stupid El could knock him on his ass, literally without lifting a finger. 

Billy sneers and shows his teeth, eyes going narrow as he asks, “The princess? What the hell is she going to be able to do?”

That’s Billy’s first question? He just told him about a gate that lets monsters into their town, and he asking about _Nancy_? “You should see her holding a shotgun or you know what? Any gun. She’s good with a gun.”

“You’re fucking serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He runs a hand through his hair, feels little light head, almost high. He hasn’t talked about the whole thing in length with anyone and he just spilled it all to Billy.

“What kind of proof do you have? You’ve got to have something, right?”

“_Proooof_?” The word stretches out and kicks up at the end. In the back of Steve’s mind he can see the dead Demo-dog that went from being shoved in Mrs. Byers refrigerator to then being shoved in the freezer out in the shed. He’s making an unattractive face at the memory, he can't help it. 

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I’m just saying I’d like something more… _substantial_.” The last word rolls out. 

_Masculine autumn tones_, those are the words Steve’s mom uses when talking about how she decorated his dad’s office. The thick rust red drapes are pulled closed, Steve doesn’t turn on the over headlights, they’d feel too bright. His dad’s office has always been off limits, making his dad off limits. He opts for turning on the desk lamp with a dark shade. Steve hesitates before sitting down in the large black leather chair behind the desk. The government papers won’t be in the stacks of things on top of the sleek wood. His dad probably has them stashed away. Out of sight out of mind.

Opening the center drawer Steve starts his hunt, riffling though the contents. Billy does a turn around the room before sitting down in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. At this point Steve is beyond caring what he thinks of the house, is too busy searching. Having proof to show Billy is more important. In the second drawer down on the side of the desk Steve comes across a pack of Camel cigarettes which he slides across the highly polished wood to Billy without even thinking, followed by a book of matches. The blonde makes himself comfortable while lighting up.

Any trouble Steve’s ever gotten into he has received a lecture while sitting in the chair Billy is currently occupying. His dad across from him, behind the desk, both imposing and uninterested. A balance Steve has never been able to achieve. Always caring just a little too much or according to his father, caring about the wrong thing._ "Where’s your head at? You’re not living up to your potential. I have to say, I’m disappointed."_ Grade A asshole. Steve slams the drawer closed.

Third drawer down all the way in the back is where he find a thick stack of white papers in a file folder. He pulls it out, it lands on the desk with a thud making the lampshade rattle. Steve never looked at the papers. He only assumed his dad would have a copy because of what Nancy said to him at school the week after everything happened the first time. 

Billy snaps his fingers to get Steve’s attention, “Earth to Harrington.”

Steve shoots him a warning glance while he opens the folder. “Yeah, yeah. Just give me a minute.” The paper is like Steve remembers, government official in its thickness. He starts turning pages. 

Time stops, brain coming to a halt with it too. Steve almost wants to laugh, but that feeling dies too quickly. He is an idiot. His slow turning of pages speeds up. It’s page after page, white pages with bold black bars blocking out all the words, all the text, line after line of black bars, except for the occasional break. The only thing left on all those pages to read is his own signature next to a date, and the occasional, _Here by agrees to keep all statements confidential, _or _Punishable offense_. One hundred and seventy three pages. His signature on all of them.

Steve shoves the stack of papers towards Billy, feeling angry with himself and like he has lost any ground to stand on. Soundlessly Billy takes the file folder, leans back in the chair, kicks his feet up onto the desk like he owns the room. He has placed the glass ashtray from the desk on the arm rest of the chair, cigarette pinch between two fingers, brows draw together, he looks questioningly at what is in his hand.Steve has to drops his head, can’t stand to watch Billy as he startsflipping through one the most terrifying moment of his life. The proof of it having been blacked out.

Talking about the Upside Down, it’s not something he’s done. Not with the kids, they bounced back, almost like nothing had happened. Which is great, he wouldn’t want it any other way. He hadn’t wanted to drag them back down with letting on to how messed up in the head he’s been. It’s not like he can talk to his parents about it and the other adults in his life have their own kids to worry about.

Billy Hargrove has been come the person Steve didn’t know he needed.

Steve leans forward, elbow on the desk, head in his hands, the weight of his head feeling heavy. He can hear Billy turning pages. Nancy had told him about this, when it first happened and he had - basically shushed her in his eagerness to forget the whole night at Byers’ house.

_"Did you see the papers?!"_

_"Nance, what are you talking about?"_

He remembers how Nancy had sped over her own words. _"__The papers, Steve! The ones they made us sign. Everything - is gone. They blacked it all out. They gave my parents a copy and I made my mom show me. It’s called redaction, selective disclosure and it legal! And pretty much the only thing that wasn’t blacked out was my signature. You can’t even read, what I’m agreeing to —"_

He had smiled at her with concern, while looking nervously around but he hasn’t really listen to her. He had been more worried about putting all the crazy shit behind them. More than ready to be a stupid teenager who just scored his dream girl. Back to living the good life. Still reasonably popular and a girlfriend to play happy couple with.

_"Hey, hey Nance. Not so loud! Okay, maybe it’s for the best. You know - let it be in the past. Moving on isn’t a bad thing. Right?" _

He brushed it off - he brushed her off. He was a shitty boyfriend.

Steve can’t bring himself to look at Billy yet. Keeps his head down, staring at the small calendar on the desk that is still on October. Christmas is next week. His dad hasn’t been home to change it. 

He starting to feel panic, like when you hit a dead end and all you need is a way out.

“I almost died in those tunnels, but the worst part is that Dustin almost died with me. And then I think about Barbara and she did, she died in my pool.” Steve feels like he’s about to go under.

Billy cuts him off, “I got caught trespassing once, back in California. The cop who wrote me up, wrote it on a yellow form. It was one page, front and back.” Heart beating, palms sweaty, Steve looks up. Billy keeps going, “That’s a lot of paper for nothing. Plus you’re a piss poor liar, Harrington.”

“Wait, are you saying you believe me?” Steve can hear the need in his own voice.

“What do those nerds call them?”

"What? …Oh.” It takes a second to register what Billy is asking about, then another second to realize his question is serious and isn’t asked as away to poke at Steve. While telling Billy everything he had used the word, monsters. The names the kids or Dustin had come up with felt too weird to try and pass by Billy. “They call the big one that walks on two legs a Demogorgon. The four legged, dog like ones are Demo-dogs.” The sinking feeling from before starts to fade.

Billy huffs. “What the actual fuck?”

~~~~~~~~~

They’re sitting close together at the kitchen table working on the bottle a whisky Billy swiped from the office. Drinking their two finger pours out of cut crystal tumblers, snacks litter the table top, knees touching under it. Billy uses a spoon to dig a maraschino cherry out of its jar. Pops it into his mouth. Gives Steve a lazy smile as he chews. The sweetness is good, but it’s not stratifying the hunger that Billy can feel creeping up. Pretty boy looks good, looks relaxed in a way Billy hasn’t seen him look before.

This castle Harrington lives in, feelings forgotten. A shrine to a family that never existed. Steve’s dad’s office was the worst. Billy snatched the most expensive looking bottle of liquor from the office bar, a wooden hutch design just for libations. Steve’s dad is the kind of asshole that has a bar in his office and keeps it stocked even though he’s never around, a total waste. A real prick move in Billy’s book. Before following Steve out he made sure to tear off the past months from the desk calendar and leave them crumpled. A nice, fuck you to Steve’s dad. Billy has him pegged as rich asshole, doesn’t need to meet the guy to know it’s true. 

Billy believes Steve. The story about the gate and the fucked up monsters coming from anyone else would have made Billy step up and laugh in their face, taunt them. Eager to tear them down.

Believing Steve means... he trusts him. He takes the whisky down in a burning gulp, a way to wash back the memory of standing too close to the edge of the quarry, with Steve backed up to it. He had wanted Billy to trust him even back then. Asked about his dad, about home, when no one ever had. Then showed up for him the other night, brought him back here, told hold him he was safe.

Steve’s the kind of guy who cares. He cares more about some dumb kid’s life than his own neck. Will go back into a house that has a monster in it. Feeling something for a guy who cares gives Billy a kind of worry that could make him feel edgy if he let it. Feeling. He has felt something for Harrington for a long time… 

“Are you going eat that entire jar?”

Billy drops the spoon back in, and licks the sweet red syrup off his bottom lip. Looks up in time to catch the way Steve’s eyes follow the path of his tongue. Billy can’t help himself, “Truth or dare, pretty boy?”

He’s ready to move on, talk about something else. Any more questions he has about the Upside Down he can ask Maxine. Give Steve a break. He know he has been - persistent is the nice way of putting it. There is nothing too nice about him, but for Steve he can try.

Steve huffs out a breath, tips his head back, and smile at the ceiling. ”Jezzus, man. You don’t know when to quit do you?”

Steve’s smile feels like a win. Billy puts a finger to his ear and leans in, “What was that? Did I hear, truth?”

“Fine, Fine, alright. But first.” Steve pours them both another shot, makes it a double. Billy whistles at the pour. 

“I’m the first guy you got a hard-on for?” Billy asks getting right to the point in a tone that’s sure to drag the answer out of Steve.

Steve makes a surprised sound,eyebrows go up, head dipping to the side as he looks away, thinking. “I - um, there was this kid, in elementary school. I don’t know, I thought he was the coolest, but it was more than that. It’s just now starting to make sense.”

“King Steve had a little crush?” Billy asks hoping get get more out of him.

“Yeah, you could call it that.” He take the jar of cherries from Billy pushes them around with the spoon, but doesn’t actually take one out. Finally adds, ”You know, things with Nancy - I was never faking it or like, lying about how I felt for her.”

Hearing the princess’ name out of Steve’s mouth gives Billy a taste of jealousy. “Didn’t say that you were.” But, then she’s not here. “You can like both you know?” Billy and Steve might have painted each other in come last night, but he’s only ever had his dick in a pussy.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah sure.” Steve says it slow. There is a pause before he adds. “I guess I didn’t realize that was a thing.” Pretty boy’s eyes go big with the realization, eyesbrows raise as he quickly asks. “Wait, do you like both?”

“Yeah, no. Not my thing.” Billy smiles wide at the naivety of the boy next door. Wants to call Harrington apple pie.

“So how many guys have you been with?” He asks while pushing a broken pretzel piece around the table top with one finger, like he’s nervous.

Billy shoots back “How many girls have you been with?”

“Shit. Sorry man.” He picks his glass back up and takes a drink.

“Don’t sweat it, Harrington.”

“So what, do you just - you know - stick it in?” Steve asks, face bewildered and red, like he is so curious he couldn’t quite keep his question to himself. 

Billy tosses his head back and cackles, all his pearly whites showing. It’s fucking surreal is what it is, pretty boy asking how two guys fuck. When he looks back, Steve has a deer in the headlights look on his face mixed with some embracement and hurt feelings. Billy licks his lips and schools his face. There is no doubt in Billy’s mind that Steve is the kind of guys that looks a girl in the eyes while he fucks her, all while telling her how special she is. The look on Steve’s face really starts to sink in, maybe Billy could have laughed a little less loudly at his question.

Steve looks down at the glass in his hands, gets real focused on it. A silence starts to settle over them taking away the last of Billy’s smile.

“Hey, pretty boy look..”

“Never mind.”Steve cuts him off, is short about it.

Billy’s heart starts thudding in his ears. He brings his glass up to his lips and drains it, keeping his eyes on Harrington, who is still fixated on his own glass. Clicks his tongue at the burn of alcohol and licks the last of the liquid off his lips. In his mind he tries to weigh out what he’s about to do. Because Steve might have slept with chicks before, but this is virgin territory for him. Billy isn’t so sure the other boy understands that.

The ease from earlier is gone. “I’d have to open you up first.” Voice as serious as he feels.

Steve raises his head at the sound of it, eye brows knitted together, face questioning if he heard Billy right. “ - what? I mean -”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.I’d open you up first, with my figures.” Steve’s eyes lock with Billy as he gives a little nod, like his mind is wrapping around the concept. And if Billy’s going to be honest, “I wouldn’t fuck you until I’d gotten at least three in.”

Steve’s cheeks burn red, his mouth opens and closes a few times searching for words or maybe going over Billy’s. _Fuck._ Steve’s question had been generic only Billy answered it like it was about them. He’d walked right into it, exposing himself. Took it from being figurative to being literal. He feels irritated with himself. Feels it starting to build, growing ugly. A current of acid running under his skin, fists clench, and nails bite into his palms of his hands. 

“How would you know, when - I was ready?”

The question stops the anger dead in its tracks. The loud acid running under his skin turns to a hum of want. All the dirty images of Steve that Billy has jacked off to dance behind his eyes, “You’d be begging for it.” The words catch on his tongue, they come out rough and dry.

Steve takes another sip of whisky. Looks down at what is left in his glass and then back up to Billy. “Do you - do you want to?” He asks unsure, looking open and serious. 

“_Yes._” One husky word gives nothing for Billy to hide behind. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Billy follows when he gets up without saying anything more. Letting him lead the way out of the kitchen.

Steve doesn’t bother turning on lights as he goes, it would be hard to see if the blinds in the large windows weren’t open, letting through the last of the day light. Give it twenty minutes and they would need their way lit. The hallway to Steve’s room is darker. Billy keeps following. In the darkness of the hallway he feels less like a predator and more like prey. He might be following Steve to his own slaughter or to confession.

The windows in Steve’s room puts them back into the dying light of the day. Washes the room in orange and gold. Almost touching they stand in front of his closed bedroom door, bathed in light. Billy is not sure what he is waiting for, has never been a pansy about go after what he wants. Steve’s big, pretty eyes are searching his, flecks of gold and green glow. Billy is afraid he won’t find what he is looking for. He hates admitting his short comings, more often than not becoming violent as away to distract from them. He doesn’t know how to do this. He knows how to bend a guy over a bathroom counter or the hood of his car and take, but not how to do this. This…

Steve takes Billy’s face between his two palms, moves to press a kiss to his lips, knocking him back a step. _Plant your feet. _Warmth knots between his ribs. They’re not looking for warmth Billy promised heat, he kisses back with more force, testing the waters. Grabs Steve and pushes him up against the door. They stay like that, mouths and hands working in unison. Kissing. Mouths taking away tension and nerves. Hands touching to explore. They work together to get both their shirts off.

With growing arousal, Billy finds his stride. Moves his mouth down the column of neck Steve has offered up, down to his collar bone, kissing and licking his way to a nipple. Billy licks, tongue wet and flat. Letting it run over the first nipple then across to the second peak. Pleased with himself, and the noise Steve makes, the sound of surprise catching in his throat. He give the nipple an extra wet, slow lick, and then another, feeling it harden. Steve’s hips buck. Billy gives it one more sloppy lick before moving back up to brush his lips at the shell of Steve ear. Whispers, “I bet a bitch has never done that to you.” Steve shivers.

Billy brings his fingers up to pinch at the saliva coated bud. Nails biting as his other hand starts rubbing Steve’s hard-on through black sweatpants. Billy moves closer in, getting to crowd Steve while playing with him gives Billy a high. Steve leans into Billy, his hand running all the way down his back to rest on his ass. They kiss slowly, while Steve shameless grinds into Billy’s rubbing hand.

“Fuck, Billy.” Steve breaks the kiss as he give a shaky grind into Billy’s palm, a movement that’s asking for more.

“I want to play with you first.” _Play_, the words slips out. Play, implying that he’s a toy, something that Billy is going to amuse himself with. The implication floods his senses, cock kicking hard at how dirty of a word it is. He doesn’t take it back, not that he would. Moves both hands to rest on Steve’s hips, giving him room to think while he waits Steve’s response.

Steve’s eyebrow are pinch together, the look in his eyes is faraway. He nods lightly, not at Billy, at least he doesn’t thinks the dark haired boy is. No, more like he is agreeing with his own train of thought. Finally asks. “Last night, um. We can stop, right? You said something about stopping, if I wanted to.” Steve shrugs at his own question like he’s trying to not make a big deal out of what he is asking.

“I want you begging for it. Remember?”Right away the answer sits uneasily with Billy. On one hand it’s what he wanted to say and on the other it’s not. He tries again, layers on the charm, keeps his voice quiet, reassuring, “You say no, and we stop. No hard feelings. Cross my heart.” He makes a crossing motion over his heart. “I just want to make you feel good.” It’s the truth. 

They get out of their sweats slower than they did yesterday. Help each other out, while taking the liberty of touching. Foreheads resting together as the both look down watching where their hands travel. Billy watches Steves touch his cock for the first time. He hisses at how fucking good it feels. Looks so good too, his veiny, fat cock, swollen and throbbing in Steve’s big hands. Steve is generous in the way he touches, stroking, rubbing, giving the bulging vein under the cockhead extra attention. Billy finally has to stop him, the touch feels so good it has become a distraction. “Keep your hands to yourself, Harrington, got it?”

Billy knows the amount of lube he is using is probably disgusting, he could have used less. He is on his knees between Steve’s legs. Pretty boy looks good laid out and naked on the bed, a real first class treat. So much of what Billy wants is nameless, slicking Steve up with a sloppy amount of lube is one of those name less things. Two fingers smearing it around in wide circles. Fingers passing around Steve’s tightly puckered rim but not actually touching it, yet. Just teasing. Motions slow and steady.

Letting his eyes rise Billy takes in Steve’s fully hard cock laying on his taut stomach before traveling up his chest to his pretty face. His cheeks are turning pink, splotchy with heat and embracement over being naked and exposed, touched down there, for the first time. 

Their eyes lock while Billy’s fingers move from making wide circles to smaller one, finally circling onto Stave’s rim. His breath comes out in a rush, like he had forgotten to breathe while waiting for Billy to touch him there, was holding the breath deep in his lungs. It’s not long before Steve’s pupils blow out and his mouth opens as he starts panting, remembering how to breathe or just simple needing air. Using his free hand Billy pushes at Steve’s thigh. “Spread your legs wider for me.”What he is really saying is, _Show me more. Show me you’ll do what I ask. That you trust me. _

Steve looks aways while doing it. Head turning, the blush is spreading down from his cheeks to his neck, sneaking onto the tops of his shoulders too. Billy starts lightly rubbing up and down, passing over his hole. Steve’s hands catch in the sheets above his head while his abdomen muscles jump in response to the new way Billy is touching him.

“Feels good doesn’t it?”

Billy watches as Steve’s throat works, swallowing before he can speak. “…yeah.”

Up and down, fingers glide through slickness. Billy increases the pressure of his touch while slowing down, letting his fingers lightly push at Steve’s rim, the pad of his middle finger dipping into the relaxing muscle. Steve let out a soft moan. It sounds like a, _yes_ to Billy. He pushes the tip of that finger into Steve, starts slowly making a circling motion with it. Testing to see if Steve will tell him to stop. 

Sinking his finger deeper in - the tightness of -fuck he’s so tight. Billy tries to breath through it, like he is the one taking the finger. Steve is breathing with him as his one finger pushes in only to pull back out. In and out. Slow and steady. Sinking deeper every time. Steve is moaning, telling Billy he is on the right track. His finger works in and out until Steve can take second one. Wet noise filling the air.

Billy knows right when he finds the sweet spot inside of Steve. Knows it by the way a moan catches in his throat and his body jerks. Touching. Feeling. Billy uses his two fingers to stroke at it, touch light.

Billy has never really cared about finding it on someone else. Open the guy up as quick as he could so he could, get his dick in, and get off. End of story. This, this is completely new, all he wants to do is play with Steve from the inside. He tilts his head with interest watching Steve respond. He responds so well. 

Stroking. Rubbing. Pressing. Fingers working moans and _oh fucks,_ out of Steve. Fingers working until three fit inside. Muscles stretch at the intrusion, the fit is tight, but they both moan at it.

Touching Steve from the inside is making Billy harder than he’s ever been. Getting off on someone else pleasure is a new. His own hard dick bobs between his legs.

Billy’s eyes keep roaming unable to focus on one thing for too long afraid he will miss something else equally as good. Greedy for everything. All the sights are good. Steve’s tight pink hole is stretched out on Billy’s fingers, everything shiny with smeared lube. Billy starts scissoring them, needing to see they way it pulls at Steve's hole. Hums in appreciation at the sight.

Billy eyes move to take in the full picture. Steve’s hands are knotted in his hair, pulling, eyes having rolled back in his head, lashes fluttering. Lower back arched off the bed, Mouth open, sounds catching in the back of his throat, Adam’s apple working.

From Steve’s piss silt, precome runs down his cock in dribbles. Pooling in the dark curls at the base. The more Billy plays with his nerves the more drools out. He doesn’t need to look down at himself to know his own dick is leaking in response, leaving its own generous wet spot on the bed. 

“Look at you pretty boy, so messy.” Admiration coating his words.

Billy slows his working fingers waiting for Steve’s attention. He’s panting open mouthed, eyes shut, fingers still locked in his hair. “Pretty boy, come on, I know you can do it.” Taunting Steve like this is heady. “Take a peek.”

Steve licks his lips, struggles to prop himself up on his arms as he looks down with glassy eyes.“Oh god, fuck - _Billy_. I’m - - I’m begging you. Alright?” It’s beautiful.The way his thighs are trembling. The way his inside muscles spasms around Billy’s fingers as soon he sees his own precome covered cock. The way Steve’s voice catches on a moan as his head falls back, like seeing his own needy cock is too much.

“_Please.” _Steve starts rocking. Like this wasn’t already dirty enough. Spread open on three fingers. Now he is moving his body, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers.

“You’ve got to let me get my fingers out of you.” His voice is rough, but he makes sure his touch is gentle. Gentle is new. Gentle, Billy tells himself he can be gentle. Hand pressed to Steve’s stomach, anchoring the other boy as he carefully works his fingers out.

Steve is shaking, hard. Maybe Billy worked him too much from the inside? Before doubt becomes an actual thing he has to face,Steve is grabbing at the hand Billy has on his stomach, using it to pull him down. 

Steve is asking for it. With his mouth and hands. With the way his is doe eyes are looking into Billy’s. Everything is saying yes, it’s winding Billy up. Making him shake too.

“Get on your knees. I need you on your hands and knees.” Cock aching for his tightness. Billy helps manhandle Steve onto his shaky limbs, while finding his place behind him.

Steve's head hangs down between his arms like it is too heavy to keep up. Billy helps him, runs his hand up the length of Steve’s back over mole dotted skin, watches as the muscles jump underneath his hand in response to the touch. Goes past his shoulder blades, into his dark hair, hand fisting in the wild locks and pulling, forcing Steve’s head back up with a snap. Steve is presenting himself to Billy. The position is submissive. It’s what Billy’s wet dreams are made of.

The breach, the resistance and finally the give makes them both moan and curse. At first Billy is careful with his thrusts.Both hands having moved to Steve’s hips, helping to keep them measured and controlled. Fingertips digging in, hips rocking in shallow motions. Steve is tight, mind numbing tight, Billy’s having a hard time thinking past it.He is shaking, fighting for control, sweating with it, hair clinging to his neck. Nerves sparking with pleasure. Body calling out for more. He’s fighting himself.

“Can you take more?” He asks on an exhale.

Steve just nods his head. 

Billy’s deeper thrusts, bring Steve down to his forearms, then finally to his chest, no longer able to hold himself up. Chest pressed flat to the bed, ass raised, forehead rubbing back and forth on the sheets as he tells Billy how good what he is doing feels. “I didn’t … I didn’t know it would feel like this.” His words are another layer to Billy’s pleasure. 

Keeping his legs spread wide forces Steve’s even wider. There’s no way he can brace himself for Billy’s hard hitting thrusts, just has to take them. Hands pulling at the sheets. The sound of Billy hammering into Steve, the slapping of skin, and squish of lube fills the room. Their panting and cursing a chorus in all the noise. 

"Oh shit - oh _please_, don’t stop_.”_

Billy moves to lower himself, chest pressed to Steve’s back. Hot sweaty skin connecting. Steve lets out a long tortured sound at the contact, tries to push himself back farther onto Billy’s cock.

Deeper. Billy needs deeper inside of him. He moves his legs out from between Steve’s. Moves to straddle him. Keeps his chest pressed to Steve back, needing that connection is a way he doesn’t understand. One arm wrapping around to hold onto Steve’s shoulder from underneath him, while the other snakes around to take hold of his jaw, tipping his head back. Making it easier for Billy to put his lips to the other boy’s ear. “I want you to keep your legs spread, keep them spread wide for me.” Steve nods into Billy’s hand.

On his knees with Steve between his legs makes his thrust short, deep, and hard hitting. Pounding and brutal. He feels like an animal. Pressed close, sweating over the other boy, using his body. He's chasing after Steve's sounds of pleasure like dumb dog chasing after a rabbit. Going and going. 

Steve makes a fucked out noise and tries to drop his head down like he can’t keep it up any more. Billy just holds tighter at his jaw and licks the sweat off of his temple. Finally growls out. “You like it like this, don’t you?”

The weight of Billy’s body pushes Steve into the bed more. Ass still raised just enough that his cock is free to rub at the sheets with each rough thrust. Teasing friction. Billy thinks he is fucking him so hard that slick liquid must be forced out with each and every thrust. His cock making a mess and dribbling precome like it did earlier. Leaving wet snail trails all over the sheets.

Breathless against the other boy’s ear, fever in his voice, “_Say it_. I want to hear you say it.”

“- - - y_es - feels, feels, oh - god. Billy - _” Steve struggling to stringthe words together keeps Billy’s hips snapping hard and quick into his tightness. Billy’s been fucking him hard, but he’s still so tight. A real fucking virgin. 

Billy pushes in deep, bottoms out, stays that way and grinds. Grinds more broken sentences out of Steve. Constantly working the bundle of nerves, feeling muscles spasm tight around his cock. 

He starts running his mouth like a goddamn idiot, “You were a virgin before this. Did you understand that? Fuck, I should have told you.”

Steve’s answer is to crane his neck, to find Billy’s lips with his. The kiss is electric, uncoordinated, it’s everything. Billy can feel it buzzing in his body. He doesn’t fuck and kiss. Fuck. What are they even doing? He’s never been this strung out before. Never felt like he was going to get lost in another person. He’s getting lost in Steve. In kissing him, moving in him. His is so goddamn fucked.

They break the kiss, a string of saliva keeps their lips connected. Their eyes lock. Billy can't look away. It's his undoing 

"I’m going to come inside of you. Fill you up. Bet you’re going to love they way it feels when it’s dripping back out of your sloppy hole.” Steve fucking whines in response, drops his head. Billy's own filthy words urges him closer to the edge. He pushes Steve down, flat to the bed. Wrapping both arms around him from underneath. They moan together at the way the first thrust feels from this position. 

His hips drive forward with hard snaps setting a pounding rhythm. 

Steve’s body is all tension, hands fisted and pulling at the sheets. Hips trying to lift back up. Instinctively offering his ass for Billy to fuck, fuck harder and deeper into as muscle start a continues spasm. Milking Billy’s cock.

“I need- I need to come. Oh - god -” Steve babbles. Tries to push up from the bed so he can get a hand on himself. He struggles against Billy who is keeping him pinned down with the weight of his body, not ready to give up the position, just keeps driving into Steve tight spasming insides, aiming for his sweet spot with every thrust.

“Let me feel you like this. Wanna feel you like this…” Billy slurs out the words. Pushes his forehead to Steve’s temple. Breathes in their scent. They smell like boys, like boys who have been fucking like animals.

Steve makes broken, fucked out noises. Body strung tight with tension, insides going tight like a vice, spasming through that tightness around Billy cock.

He is coming on Billy’s cock, with a shattered moan, and without a hand on his dick. Billy’s too gone to be surprised by it, tries to fuck him through it, but his own edge is right there, and he’s going over it. Balls pulling up tight, thrust becoming uncoordinated. A basic instinct pushes him to spear Steve deeper, to pump him full. He’s pushing into Steve, but he’s already bottomed out, all the thrust does is moves them up the bed. He grunts at the blinding pleasure. Cock pulsing out come, filling Steve’s fluttering insides up.

Their limbs are as useless as Jell-O. On top of the sheets they lay on their sides facing each other, shivering with aftershocks and cooling sweat.

Steve's runs his fingers across the bridge of Billy’s nose, careful of the bandages, down his cheek and neck. He takes the chain of Billy’s necklace between his forefinger and thumb, rubs at it.

Steve’s got this dumb starry eyed look on his face, Billy’s just as guilty, can feel his face mirroring the other boy’s expression.

“You’ve got actual freckles.” His words come out on a lazy sign. Calls them, _actual freckles_, like Max calls snow, _real snow._

“Mmhmm.” It's getting harder for Billy to keep his eyes open. 

Billy wakes to Steve pulling a blanket up and over them. It’s a single moment, blink and it would be missed. He looses himself to sleep again, just as quickly, Steve tucked up against him

They fuck again in the morning. After the Chief radioes to tell them he’ll be over in an hour to pick Billy up. They fuck in raw desperation. Bodies urgently working together. Kisses sloppy because they can’t pull themselves together. 

The Chief might as well have told them the world was ending. Snow days shattering apart into tiny little flakes that melt in the hand.

Billy says the filthiest words, pushing them out his lips and into Steve’s ear, breath hitching. Steve’s blunt nails run hard down his back as an answer. Leaving marks.

Pain and pleasure.

Undivided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to know what you all think of this chapter. The feedback has really adds to the experience of writing this. Thanks again!


	10. Grounding Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started writing this I thought it was going to be four chapters long. LOL. With that being said there is one more chapter after this one. A big thanks to everyone who has stuck it out and read this ever growing story.

Chief Hopper’s truck smells like cigarettes. Billy caught a strong whiff of the scent as soon as he opened the passenger door. The scent is one that he is familiar with and had never been more relieved to smell. The clean shirt Steve gave him to wear, the clean scent, there’s no way it hides the smell. Billy knows he smells like sex. Dirty, raw, fucked out sex. The clean shirt can’t hide the smell but the Chief’s old, long smoked in truck can.

The last words he said to Steve before leaving were, _"__None of what’s going on between Neil and me is any of your business. Stay clear of it." _He hadn’t turned to look back at Steve as he walked to the parked truck. The Chief had sat still, eyes flitted between Billy as he made his approach and Steve who stood in the doorway of his house, tried to read the situations.

All Billy could think was, _get your ass back inside, Harrington. Don’t watch me go. He’s going to see, it’s written all over both of us, what happened, what we did. _With each step he took as he walked away the shirt rubbed at the raw marks on his back. His nail bitten flesh so fresh it stung.

Stings. 

Billy keeps his mouth shut for the entire ride, leans forward in his seat so his back isn’t rubbing against it. The roads are covered in thick, slushy wet snow. Billy tries not to think, not about Steve, not about what they did, not about what Steve told him a snow day was. _"__Think of it like, a bonus day. Almost like a freebie. Like you’re getting away with something_." They didn’t get away with shit.

The older man shoots side glances at Billy from time to time but doesn’t actually say anything. They both keep quiet until they’re parked out in front of the house on Cherry Lane.

The Chief keeps his eyes on Billy as he takes his time pulling out a pack of smokes from the inside pocket of his coat, not hiding the fact that he is trying to read the teen. “I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen. After you can ask me all the questions you want.” The Chief hands him a cigarette while he is talking.

“Yes, sir.” Billy doesn’t like being ordered around, it’s one of his least favorite things. He takes the smoke along with the lighter. Chief Hopper sizes him up with a harder look, eye narrowing. It was a two word answer, _yes sir_ but by the way the Chief is looking at him, Billy can’t help feeling like he gave something away. He silently curses himself as he lights up.

“My old man wasn’t the nicest guy. Use to throw beer bottles at me when he got real angry. It’s not the easiest thing dealing with that kind of parent. I’ve got to say things with your dad have me worried. What he has been doing is a lot worse than throwing the occasional beer bottle.” Billy can feel himself puffing up, ready to go on the defense. Hopper holds up a hand. “I’m not saying you can’t take it -what I’m saying is you shouldn’t have to. There’s a difference, kid.”

It’s a punch, Billy flinches at the words. Blows smoke out his nostrils wanting the cloud of smoke to distract from his response.

The Chief cracks his window before continuing. Giving time for what he just said to sink in a little deeper. “Monday is Christmas Eve but the courthouse is going to be open for the first part of the day on account of it being closed for the last few. Your stepmom is going to be filing for divorce. She is also willing to file a request for temporary custody. Which means legally you could stay with her until you turn eighteen.”

Billy shakes his head in disbelief, huff out, “No way. Susan - lets jus say she’s not my biggest fan. She thinks I’m a hell on wheels. There’s no way she would do that.” 

“My friend who works for Child Services in Chicago, she spent three hour on the phone with him yesterday, getting advice and figuring out how to makes this happen. You know it only took your sister asking her once for her to make the call.” He holds up his index finger like it will help him make his point. 

Billy can hear her voice, he knows how Maxine asks her mom for something when she really wants it. He also knows Susan’s face when she realized how much Max wants whatever it is she is asking for. It’s bitter sweet. Billy can’t un-feel it. Wants to hate himself for it, for that weakness but he’s worn out on thinking it's a weakness. So he swallows harder and takes another drag. 

“She’s not my sister.” His voice comes roughly over the unwanted lump forming in his throat.

“Family is what you make it. Don’t wait until you’re my age to learn that.” The Chief has a stupid look on his face. Probably thinks looking at Billy is like looking at his younger self or some shit.

Billy doesn’t know how to take the punches the Chief is throwing. His heckles raise. “A judge still has to agree to it, right? How do you know he won’t write me off as some punk? A good son doesn’t turn his back on his father.” He sneers. 

Hopper fingers drum on the steering wheel as he sighs deeply. “First, Judge Adams doesn’t like men like your dad. It’s a well known fact in this town. Second, this kind of request apparently isn’t unusual for older kids who aren’t of age yet but need out of their current situations.” 

Billy huff out a smoke filled breath in response.

“I can’t tell you what to do, kid but you need to know no one is going to judge you for not wanting to stay with your dad.”

“That’s shit. That’s actual shit, you know that, right?” Billy aggressively snubs out his cigarette in the over flowing ashtray, and take another one from the pack on the dashboard without asking. Licks over his teeth, trying to keep himself in check.

The Chief takes a deep breath, and ask in a measured tone. “Do you want to stay with him?”

Fuck no. Billy’s wanted free from Neil for forever and has felt so much fucking shame for it. A secret shame that’s up there with being a fag. A son fearing his father is a healthy respect. All men hit their sons. Those are lies, Billy knows it but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s been living them. He built his life on them. A faulty foundation that’s starting to crumble. The weight is crushing. 

There’s no going back not after their blow out in the kitchen. Not after Billy fought back. He drags hard on his cigarette thinking of what Neil would do to make himself feel like he’d gotten Billy wrangled again. Then there is Harrington, for some reason the guy cares, showed up for Billy - they fucked, Jesus, they fucked and it means something. And Billy could see Steve doing something dumb like sticking his nose in this, never mind Billy told him to keep out of it. The thought of Neil going after Steve…

“No.”

“I was hoping you were going to say that."

The answer throws Billy off and puts him on edge. He turns to look full on at the Chief. “Why?” His question is sharp.

“Because your old man and I had a long talk, where I made somethings very clear to him about keeping his distance and what will happen if he doesn’t.”

Instantly Billy feels anger and shame racing their way through his body. The angry hits his face in a hot flash, the shame working him up even more. He blows smoke out through his nostrils. Stares the Chief down, good and mean while he throws open the car door. Snarls out “I didn’t ask you to stick your nose in my goddamn business. I don’t need some hick cop sticking up for me like I’m a pansy. You got it?”

The Chief starts barking at him, “Whoa. Hey, hey! I have a responsibility to the people of this town and you happen to be-”

Billy’s feet land with a thud, slushy snow slopping on impact. The air is cold but he’s too pissed off to feel the bitting chill. He slams the car door shut so hard the whole neighborhood can hear. Billy thinks, let them. He doesn't give a shit. Eyes ahead, he stomps his way up to the house, fuming in anger.

He hears the Chief open his car door, He shouts out to Billy,“Hey kid! That home, it's Max’s, her mom’s and it’s yours. He doesn’t have a right to it and you don’t owe him anything just because you’re his son.”

Billy freezes on the steps. No house has ever been a home, the places Billy has lived in have always been Neil’s.

_"You’re under my roof, son…"_

_"A dutiful son…"_

_"A respectful son…"_

As the Chief’s words sink in all Billy can think is, fuck him. No one knows shit about his life but even that’s starting to feel like a lie too.

The house is different. Billy looks around. Furniture has been moved. Susan and Maxine must have done it. The kitchen has been cleaned up too. You would never know that him and his dad came to blows in the room. There is even a new drying rack for dishes and new kitchen towels. Billy thinks this is what the house looks like when Neil Hargrove doesn’t exist. He can remember his dad bitching at Susan telling her that her idea of where to put the couch was no good, said his idea was better, made more sense. Neil did that a lot with her, not just here in Hawkins but back in California too. It comes to Billy pretty clearly how willfully he ignored that they were both living under Neil’s thumb. 

Both Susan and Max give him space, acknowledge his presence but don’t do much to get in his way. He couldn’t be more thankful for it. Feeling any sort of gratitude towards Susan is new, doesn’t entirely sit well with him but he’s too tired to rebel against it. The only thing she says to him before he heads to his room is to ask him to come home after school tomorrow so they can talk. He’s so fucking tired he tells her with no tack that he’s sorry about his dad screwing around with some other women. She give him a strained smile and tells him Maxine is glad to have him home.

_Home._

The warm water is not going to last. Not like he wants it too, not like the shower at Harrington’s house. The nail marks running down his back sting in the heat of the water. When the water first hit his back Billy welcomed the sting with a hiss. He caught a glimpse of them in the mirror before he got in the shower, raised and red, they are mostly contained to his shoulder blades but the ache reaches farther, deeper.

Steve’s name is a constant and low hum in Billy’s mind. He presses his forehead to the cool tiles on the shower wall, feeling a little crazy, a little strung out. The two of them hadn’t been in the real world for days and now they’re going to have to answer for that.

Billy pushes his head harder into the tiles, a silent scream catching in his throat, water running into his open mouth, he shakes with the effort of not making a noise. Desperately wanting to brake something but having nothing to break. For a moment he thinks of storming naked and wet into the kitchen on a rampage, thinks of breaking every dish, throwing glasses, tearing the house down.

There is an ache under his ribs that won’t give up. Billy had moved inside of Steve, like he needed him. Every thrust telling more of a truth.

Steve had begged for it not just last night, but again in the morning,_I want you._ The concept of needing to be opened up still new to him, he pushed Billy, _I can take you - please. _Hands moved up to cup his cheeks, planted kiss after kiss on Billy’s lips. Mumbled _please_ with each press of his lips. Broke Billy down, broke his sanity.

This morning Steve felt tighter than the night before. Billy had played with him, work his body hard, got him keyed up and needy before fucking him for the first time - taking his virginity. One hour, there hadn’t been the time for that. Billy got two fingers inside of Steve, barely scissored them, barley opened him up. They used one hour like it could keep the last three days from falling apart.

_"I want it. Billy, I can take it." _Wild dark hair and doe eyes. Billy couldn’t fight both himself and Steve. He had still been wet with Billy’s come from the night before. 

Billy rolled his hips and looked into Steve’s eyes. Pupils blown, pleasure tainted with pain. He could see it. He answered with his mouth and body. Gently rolled his hips while he panted, _t__ell me to stop. _Steve shook his head, wild hair a mess all over the pillow, he pulled Billy to him. Wrap his arms around him, tried to kiss him quiet. "_Tell me to stop." _Steve held tighter blunt nails digging in. Billy rolled his hips until Steve’s body could take being thrust into. They only had an hour.

Between Steve’s legs Billy had begged in his own way. Filthy fucking words, giving everything way, "_This is real." _Pressed his lips to Steve’s ear and panted it out over and over, thrusts fucking hard and deep. Steve had clawed at his back. Not in pain, the tension his body carried had melted with each roll of Billy’s hips.

_This is real._

They fucked like they were making a promise.

The water runs cold. They day is fading into night and Billy doesn’t want to sleep alone because he knows what it’s like to sleep beside Steve and there’s no unknowing that. 

The shitbird is lingering in the doorway of his room. Wonder Women t-shirt and dark blue pajama bottoms on. She got into comics because the first month they lived together as a _family_ she stole his Batman collection. Not that it mattered he hadn’t been into them by the time she took them.

Billy empties an ashtray into a plastic garbage bag. Chief Hopper ran his mouth about this place being Billy’s home and Susan is going to go out on a limb for him. So Billy put away all his tapes and when he was done with that he thought he might as well get rid of the trash that’s been piling up in his room. Keeping himself busy while waiting for his hair to dry. Doesn’t like to sleep on it wet, makes it frizzy. 

“What do you want?” Billy ask more tired than angry. The anger from early having faded, leaving him drained. He ties the full bag closed and waits for her answer.

She hesitates and then finally offers, “I’m glad your back.” Rocks from the heels of her feet onto the balls.

“Yeah? Is that so?” Billy tests her as he dumps the trash bag by the the door.

She stands her ground. Giving attitude back at him by crossing her arms but keeps her tone pleasant. “That’s what I said.” 

This is as good as time as any, Billy figures. Plus he could do without the attitude, the conversation he has in mind might knock her down a peg. “We need to talk.” All the shit Harrington told him its just one of the many things that’s weighing him down, he needs to take something off his plate.

“Okay?” Max makes it a question. Keeps her arms crossed tight and takes a step into his bedroom. 

Billy saunters over to his bed and sits down, gets comfortable. It’s starting to dawn on him that he’s going to enjoy this. “You find yourself in trouble again and you come to me. Understand?"

“Yeah, okay.” The words stretch out as she says them. She looks confused, face scrunching up. She tips her head and finally asks “When you say trouble, what exactly do you mean?”

“The kind that involves _tunnels._” Her look of surprise gives Billy pure satisfaction, the way her eyes go big and eyebrows raise. He’d pay good money to get to watch her response a second time. He’ll always like getting the upper hand. 

When she recovers, her eyes narrow and she asks. “Steve told you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, shitbird.” Billy gives her a taunting smile.

“God, you’re so annoying.” She spins on her heels and turns to leave, red hair swaying behind her.

“Shut the goddamn door, Maxine!” He calls out after her. Smile spreading into his voice. He can’t help cackling a little bit too. 

He’s about to get up to close the door when she reappears, radio in hand.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s back.”

“I can’t believe he actually told you.” She says as she comes stomping back in. Plops down on the floor by his bed and tucks her hair behind her ears while asking, “Did he bother to show you how to use one of these?”

Billy’s eyes narrow at the fucking thing she’s holding up in his face, the first morning at Steve’s making its way to the front of his memory. “Did you and your dipshit friends eavesdrop on us?”

“No.” Face pinched up, protesting just a little too much. All Billy can think is, _talkative mormons._

“Yeah, sure.” Billy pulls the radio from her hand and tuns it over inspecting it.“So what gives? Have you and your nerd friends not heard of this thing called the telephone? Pretty sure every house has one.”

“Yeah, but the _tunnels _don’t have one and neither does the junkyard. And you’re not going to want to stop and look for a payphone when you’re running from a demo-dog.”

“Jesus Christ, fine. How does it work?”

She shows him how the radio works. He asks more questions about Steve than he does the Upside Down. _He’s actually kind of brave. _She tells Billy in detail about the junkyard and how Steve came out swinging. Billy doesn’t need Steve to be brave he needs him to be smart. Staying clear of Billy, that would be the smartest thing. Billy is selfish most of the time, but the feelings he has for Steve - he pushes those thoughts back. Needs to think them when he’s a lone because they’ll show on his face. He is gone on pretty boy. He knows it. Told Steve as much too.

The night stretches out. Him and Max, they use to get along like this. Probably Billy’s fault that they stopped. Apologizing has never been his thing. There’s no point to it, you can’t change the past. So instead he just listens, let Max yammer on. Thinks about radioing Steve but his head is already so filled up with him that he needs room to think. 

~~~~~~~~~

Friday at school is a joke. Everybody has an attitude. Allen, Tina, Carol, Tommy, the whole school is sulking. The entire student population thought the snow guaranteed them sliding into Christmas vacation like sliding into home base on a home run hit.

Hands down this feels like the longest day in history. The math test sitting in front of Steve, he’s already failed it. He’s got ten more questions but he was dead in the water within the first twenty. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, moves forward in his seat and quietly grunts at the movement, body reminding him of Billy, like he needs the reminder. It’s pretty much all Steve can think about. He is sore; his arms, legs and… inside. His body feels - used in a way that’s satisfying. It would be great if he didn’t feel so emotionally raw and confused.

There is no going back. Steve is living life after Billy Hargrove. There are people, moments, things that happen where there was everything before and then everything after. Steve understands that. Draw a line, once you’ve crossed over it you can’t go back. He’s already lived through a couple of those but Billy takes the cake. 

Liking both girls and boys isn’t a fluke, neither is wanting Billy. They’d been chasing something, they way neither of them could actually stay away from the other. Billy might have started it but Steve made his own moves too. He doesn’t have the words to describe what happened over the last couple days, it feels too big…too right.

The silence of the class room is interrupted by the school’s principle. His voice comes booming over the intercom. Chairs screech on the floor as a couple kids jump in their seats, not expecting the interruptions. The bells going to rings in ten. This has to be the end of the semester announcement.

The principle rambles over the announcement. “On behalf of the staff here at Hawkins High happy holidays to all…we wish you a safe New Years… please remember to clean out your lockers… if you have a locker for sports that one as well. No one wants to smell your gym shorts after they’ve been sitting around for two weeks…”

The gym. Steve’s head pops up to look at the speaker, while the wheels in his head turn. Both Billy and him have sports lockers. For once the principle’s announcement is good for something. It gives Steve an idea. 

Steve push into the hallway, is greeted by the clang of lockers being thrown open and the sight of students fighting to shove a semester worth of papers and books from their lockers into their backpacks, while other kids dump handfuls of of old homework into trash bins. Steve makes his way up stream, pushing in the opposite direction of the flow of kids trying to break free and start their holiday vacation.

The only sign of Billy was this morning when Steve pulled into the school’s lot and saw the Camaro. And yeah they saw each other yesterday but yesterday feels like a life time ago. Steve’s hoping Billy caught the announcement too and will be waiting for him. They rarely have run-ins during school, their classes don’t line up. Steve totally thought about searching Billy out, it took a lot of restraint not to hunt Hargrove down.

Maybe Steve should have headed to the parking lot first to check for Billy but it will be filled with kids. Seeing Billy for the first time after being snowed in together with all their peers around to witness it seems like a pretty dumb idea. He exits the the back double doors, its another freeze your balls off winter day. There are a few kids milling around but none of them are heading in the direction of the gym.

What the hell is Steve even going to say to Billy if he finds him? _I came while you held me down, I came without stroking my dick and I can’t stop thinking about it, we both have monsters, you know my secret and I knows yours, we slept in the same bed for days, and that might be screwing me up more than anything. I hated waking up in an empty bed_… Oh god, there’s like a lot that Steve could says to Billy. He makes an audible noise of annoyance at himself. It’s cold, like it could snow but Steve is about to start sweating. Jeez.

“Harrington.”

Steve jumps at his name and turns. Billy is standing in the walkway between the main building and the gym, back resting on red bricks, for once his leather jacket is zipped all the way up, keeping the cold out. Steve stumbles forward in the direction of him, feet sliding on the ice covered ground, his Nikes aren’t the best shoes for winter. His back hits the brick wall across from Billy with a thud. He tries to mimic Billy, going for a relaxed stance. When he think he has it down he looks up but his face gives him away and he knows it. He is wide eyed, searching over Billy’s expression. Steve feels needy in a way he knows is showing. God, they - he - let Billy… They had sex, but sex doesn’t feel like the right word and making love sounds sappy and it was too rough to be called that anyways. 

Billy, he’s looking at Steve like it - hurts? The relaxed stance now that Steve is paying attention seems off, fake. He is holding a lit cigarette but he’s not smoking it. There is a red duffle bag by his feet that Steve recognizing as his gym bag. Resting on the brick wall across from Billy doesn’t feel right. He feels too far away. Steve shift his footing on the frozen ground, takes a deep breath and moves to stand next to Billy, back coming to rest on the wall, their shoulders almost touching. 

His head lulls to the side, taking Billy in. Billy is doing the same, head turned, chin raised, looking at Steve from under long lashes. Eyes stormy blue. All those things he could say to Billy makes it harder to look at him, afraid the words will come spilling out in a knotted up mess. “Hey.”

“Hey, pretty boy.”

There’s heat flooding into Steve’s cheeks. He jingles the keys for the Beamer in his jacket pocket, like a nervous tick. Steve keeps looking from Billy’s serious eyes down to the forgotten cigarette he’s got pinched in his fingers. He fixates on it while he tries to collect his thoughts, but his brain keeps getting stuck on how much he wants to kiss Billy.

Steve blinks back up to Billy, who’s unwavering gaze is still on him, waiting for Steve to make the first move, curious or maybe needing to see what it will be, like his own next move will depends on it. Balls in Steve’s court, and he needs to plant his feet. He drops his eyes back down to Billy’s smoke.

He rolls to stand sideways, body never leaving the wall. Stops fiddling with the car keys and brings his hand out. With cold fingers he reaches down, takes the cigarette from Billy, raises his eyes as he brings it to his lips. Takes a drag then blows the smoke out slowly and holds it up for Billy to take back. Billy’s eyes never leave him.

Steve could kiss him here, only they could get caught, and it could make its way back to Neil Hargrove. Offering the cigarette back to Billy is the closets that they’re going to get to a kiss. And it’s a cool move, and Steve has had so few with Billy that right now he’d really like this one, and he’s not going to feel like bullshit for it.

Billy takes his time, hand coming up slowly to take the cigarette from between Steve’s fingers. Their finger brushing because Billy makes sure of it. Steve feels like he can breath again. Oxygen making its way back to his brain helping him sort his thoughts out. 

When he wasn’t thinking about what happened between him and Billy his thoughtsrolled back around to the shitty situation with Billy’s dad. All he want is for Billy to be safe…that’s not entirely true, he wants Billy, but if he had to make a choice it would be Billy’s safety. Hop had promised that he would take care of Neil Hargrove, Steve wishes he know exactly what that meant.

“Hey, so when Hop-”

Billy reads Steve like a book, cuts him off before he can even ask his question. His eyes narrow as he says. “I’ve got a lot of shit to deal with. I don’t need you getting involved, Steve.”

“Will you at least tell me what going on?” Steve asks while trucking some hair that’s fallen in his eyes behind his ear.

Billy shakes his head and huffs out a breath, drops the cigarette and grinds the butt into the ground with the heel of his boot. Lets his gaze come back to Steve. “The Chief, he warned Neil off. Susan is okay with me staying with her and Max at the house. Nothing more exciting than that.”

“Wait, hold on. Your dad, is he just going to let you….go?” Somehow Steve is not sure he believes that.

Quick like a match being lit, irritation shows on Billy’s face. He pushes off the wall and straightens up.“I don’t have time for a game of twenty questions. The night you came to my house, Neil saw you, right? That’s already you being too involved. Like I said, I want you to stay clear of this.”

He’s giving Steve a warning, really? “It was one question, Jesus Christ, Billy. I want to help.”

“You’re a real boy scout aren’t you?” Billy scoffs. It’s not as mean it could be but his eyes are turning hard, something clicks, Steve watches it happen. Billy just calculated something and is about to use it. He reaches out and with two fingers gives Steve a little push in the center his chest. It feels like a slap to the face. “It’s not your problem and I’ve got to be a going, amigo.”

Steve exhales sharply and shakes his head in disbelief. What the hell was that? He thinks about grabbing Billy as he walks away but calls after him instead. 

“Hey Hargrove! You promised no bullshit, remember?” Steve calls him out, calls his bluff because this has to be a bluff. He needs it to be a bluff. He takes a couple steps forward to catch up to Billy but doesn’t get very far. Billy is coming back for him. Storms up and into Steve’s space, gets him stepping backwards to the brick wall without laying a hand on him. There it is, zero to sixty. Eyes are blue flames burning Steve up. His nostril flare and he draws in a breath through parted lips. 

“Listen up, Harrington. There are certain people in this world that you should stay away from and I’m one of them. Just because it’s not me who personally drags you down doesn’t mean it won’t be my fault. My old man catches wind that I turned full on faggot for you-”Billy catches himself, eyes widening, words dying on his lips. 

If Steve thought he felt raw before he feels shredded now. In no way did he think this was going to be easy, Billy is hard edges and all but there’s something else there, something driving him.

“I’m not afraid of your dad.”

“I don’t fucking care.” Billy’s words bite.

Steve runs a hand through his hair. He’s angry. He hasn’t been angry like this in - he can’t remember how long. Taking a breath he searches Billy’s eyes for answers but doesn’t get any. Steve’s stomach turns over. The question he didn’t know he needed to ask volunteers itself. “Do you not want this?” He asks it with his heart on his sleeve.

Billy takes a step back. His boots scrape over the icy gravel path that runs between the two buildings, he takes another step, separating them. “You’re a real pain in my ass, did you know that, Harrington?” Steve watches the fight go out of Billy as he asks it, gone as quickly as it came. Suddenly Steve’s not so angry either. “There’s a lot of things I want…” The words hang in the air.“Monday morning I have to go with Susan to the courthouse. I’m going to have to talk about my old man. I don’t get to stay with Max and Susan if a judge doesn’t agree to it.” 

That, that explains a lot. Steve wishes Billy had lead with it.“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, _oh shit_.” Billy mimics him.

Steve drops his eyes to his feet while searching for something to say. The last thing Steve wants to do is go and make a mess of anything. His house might be empty most of the time and sure that sucks, but he’s never come home to a father that hits him. Not once. He has no idea what it’s like for Billy.

“It’s okay. You know if you don’t want to do this or can’t right now. I won’t be mad at you.” It hurts a hundred times worse than anything he’s ever felt but he means it.

Billy’s eyebrows knit together. He swallows before saying anything, like the words are stuck in his throat. “I need you to stay away from me, Steve. Not forever but for right now.”

“Yeah, okay.” Steve looks down focus narrowing to the the ground. His heart, it actually hurts. He made the offer, he hates it but he made it and Billy is taking it.

Billy’s red gym bag catches Steve’s attention. He picks it up off the ground, closes the distance and holds it out to Billy.

“_Thanks_.” Its gruff, Steve knows _thanks_ is not a strong word in Billy’s vocabulary, making it mean more, adding to the mountain of hurt that’s building up. He reluctantly lets the bag go as Billy’s grip tightens on it.

“W - - will you just tell me it wasn’t bullshit? You know, for my own peace of mind.” Needy, despite trying for selfless. Steve feels like shit.

Billy looks at him like he’s trying to memorize everything about him. Like the only thing in the entire world to look at is Steve Harrington of Hawkins Indiana. The look makes him feel a lot of things. Billy finally answers, “I told you yesterday morning.”

Steve comes home from school to find his parents have returned and invaded the house in what can only be described as a hostile holiday take over. His mom has turned a blind eye to what a Scrooge his dad is and stepped into the role of happy homemaker, like the holidays might actual mask how much his parents have come to resent each other. She worked her holiday magic on the house. There’s a decorated Christmas tree where there wasn’t one this morning, stockings are hung and lights have gone up to frame the red front door.

While his mom continues making the house festive his dad has Steve come to his office so he can interrogate him about the crumpled calendar pages and the half empty bottle of, _"__Do you have any idea what a bottle of whisky like that costs? Of course not, everything is handed to you." _Steve sits in the same chair he always sits in, focuses on the tape dispenser on the desk, because it is the right spot to stare at, his dad will think he’s listening but too ashamed to look him at him. He figured that trick out when he was ten but tonight he is over it. Half way through the lecture he raises his head, Steve has no idea who his dad thinks he is.

“So, what do you have to say for yourself, Steven?” He leans back in his chair, swirls the whisky in his glass, the ice clinking as is goes around and around.

Steve stares a second longer, honestly the only thing he has to say is, “I don’t know why you think you can be gone for months on end and then come home and expect that I’m going to listen to you.”

The ice stops clinking around as his dad come forward to set the cut crystal glass back down. “I will have you know I work hard for this family. Not that I expect you to know what hard work is, seeing as I’ve given you everything time and time again. Maybe you could do without the BMW for awhile.”

“Yeah, but see I have to drive mom downtown tomorrow, unless you would like to do that.” Uses his, helpful son tone but with an underlining, fuck you.

The Saturday before Christmas and Hawkins’ Main Street is bustling. There are a few things Steve’s mom needs and she asked Steve to drive her into town. Their last stop before heading back home is the liquor store. He waits in his car while she runs in. The winter sun is shinning bright, ice cycles hanging from buildings are slowly dripping but the ground is still too cold for the snow to melt off.

Steve taps one hand on the steering wheel, lets his mind drift. Him and Billy, they want each other, okay, Steve is sure on that. The other thing he is sure of is that he might not be afraid of Billy’s dad but Billy is. It’s a fear that Neil Hargrove literally beat into him. As much as Steve wants to make that fear go away for Billy he can’t. It doesn’t work like that.

Steve sort of has the idea that Billy might also be afraid that Neil would - what? Try to hurt him? The way Billy cares, shows it, is rough around the edges. That has to be what the whole two finger push to the chest was the other day. It was a low blow, It was Billy trying to push him away. And in his mind keep Steve safe? 

A shadow passes over Steve, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looks over his shoulder to see Hopper in his uniform, standing at the car door, hand raised like he’s about to knock on the glass window. Steve unbuckles his seat belt and makes a moves to get out but the Chief doesn’t move back from the car door instead waves a hand at him like he is shoeing a fly. Steve can hear him through the glass. “No no, stay in your car, it’s fine.”

Steve rolls down his window and looks up, craning his neck. “Hi Hop.”

“I saw your car and figured I’d come over and say hello.” Hop says while lighting a cigarette. Steve notices he looks less tired than the last few times he’s seen him.

“How are you doing?” Steve squints, the winter sun is high in the sky.

Hop give him a half smile, “I’m good. Joyce is having El and I over for Christmas dinner. Speaking of El, I know you cart the kids around sometimes. You’re not allowed to pick her up or drop her off anywhere unless I say so. And by me saying so, I mean you heard the words from my mouth, not Mike’s or El’s or anyone else’s for that matter.”

Steve nods. Mike Wheeler’s name is written all over this warning, the kid must have gone and done something stupid, no surprise there. “Yeah, totally got it. Loud and clear.” No way is Steve driving the Chief of Police’s teenage daughter around with out his permission. “The umm, kids have been talking about going to a movie at the Hawk day after Christmas, El is…?”

“Not allowed to go.” 

“Cool, noted."

An awkward silence settles over them where they both stare at each other. The chief drags on his cigarette and Steve taps on the steering wheel some more.

“So you and Billy Hargrove…?”

“…are friends.”

Its Hop’s turn to nod. “Okay, glad to hear that. He could use a friend.”

Steve’s kind of had that idea too, getting to know Billy better is getting to know there’s not really anyone in his life. Tommy and Carol don’t count. There’s Max, sure but she’s just a kid.

“Do you actually think that Neil Hargrove is going to stay away? The guy’s a monster.” Steve finally asks. 

Hop lets out a long sigh and looks up at the sky. “Let me tell you something about the type of monster Billy’s father is. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of them in this world.” He looks back to Steve, leans on the car. “He is the kind of monster that wants to feel bigger than he actually is and does it by picking on people who he thinks are smaller than him. At one point that was Billy. That night at the house, Billy was going to win that fight and Neil Hargrove knows it. He was lucky that Powell and I showed up when we did. So, no I don’t think he’s going to come after Billy. I think he’ll tell anyone who is dumb enough to listen that Billy is a disappointment and good for nothing, as a way to cover up his own shame and guilt.”

Steve worries that Billy’s always going to think Neil is bigger and that in his mind he is still the kid with the broken arm. “You’ll be at the courthouse on Monday, right?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. I’m planning on it.”

“If you think of it will you let me know how it goes?”

Hop’s eyes flick over him, searching. “Sure thing.”

Sunday is spent at his parents disposal. The first part of the day Steve digs the patio furniture out of the snow, takes pots of boiling hot water outside to help get the chairs and table free from the icy ground. Steve keeps one eye on the empty pool, doesn’t matter that there’s no water in it. The possibility of the Upside Down rearing its ugly head at this point is kind of always a reality, It’s happened twice why not a third time? Somedays Steve gets stuck on that thought more than others. The fact that his parents are home doesn’t make it any less likely.

It takes him over three hours to get everything in the garage like his dad wanted. By the time he is done his fingers are frozen and limbs stiff with cold. The hours spent outside helped to keep Billy out of his thoughts.

Over Dinner his father gets on his case again. His mom sits quietly, silently observing. Not nodding along or pushing the agenda. Steve catches her rolling her eyes when his dad started on the _Harrington, is a name that is respected, _spiel. She tries to hide the eye roll by bringing her tea cup up and taking a sip but he knows what he saw. 

Later in the night when Steve is finally in his room he bellyflops onto his bed, exhausted from the day. It's a struggle to be around his parents, to know how to relate to them any more. He is not playing the part of dutifully son like he use to and they both are catching on. 

He grabs a pillow and wraps his arms around it. The smell of Billy is on his sheets. Steve is a teenage boy, they are notoriously gross, he can get away with not washing his bedding for awhile longer.

How long is, not forever? That’s what Steve would really like to know. He thinks about that as he toes off his shoes and works on getting undressed, down to his underpants in the laziest way possible. Never actually getting up from the bed, just some awkward movements, shimmying and grunting as he fights his way out of his pants, sweater and shirt. When he’s done he pulls the covers over his head.

After Billy left with Hop and Steve was alone he spent the day lost in his own head. Got so lost and turned around that he fingered himself for the first time, hole still wet with Billy’s come. Sank to his knees in front of his bed, and push his pants down, reached, touched at his rim already knowing it was going to be wet. Rubbed at his swollen hole, while jacking off. He came thinking of Billy fucking him, pressed to the bed by the weight of his solid body.

_"Tell me to stop."_

_"Tell me to Stop." _Billy said it like he was asking Steve to save him from himself.

All Steve wanted was more. He wants more of everything, not just the sex. They slept together for days. That has to be the most telling thing, right? Is that what Billy meant when he said, _"__I turned full on faggot for you." _Screwing is one thing, but sharing a bed is a whole other thing.

They had been touching, kissing, talking in hushed voices, telling each other things, lost in the quiet of the morning.

_"My dad had been having an affair with his secretary for over a year when my mom found out about it. And like a couple months after that his company took on an international client, I don’t know… I guess it was a big deal. Anyways the long weekends at the office in Chicago turned into them being away for weeks at a time."_

_"How old were you when your mom found out about your dad?"_

_"Fourteen. She resents him for the affair, and he resents her because she doesn’t trust him anymore and follows him around like a shadow." _

Steve, tucked in closer to Billy. Nose brushed at his jaw, feeling the start of stubble. _"__So what about, you know, your mom?" _He remembers how Billy tensed at his question.

He threw an arm over his head, like staying still while thinking about it was too much. Steve looked up, watched him run his tongue over his teeth. Thought for a second that question was one too many.

_"She took off. Didn’t want to take me with her."_

_"Were you young?"_

_"Yeah, kind of."_

Steve kissed him, pressed his lips where jaw meets neck. Could feel the vibration as Billy asked a question. Changed the subject. And yeah, a lot of the time Steve can be dense but he knew not to push, to keep his other questions to himself.

_"What’s the windy city like?"_

_"…hmmm Chicago…"_

_"That’s what they call it right?"_

Steve was telling Billy about Chicago when Hop radioed.

Had they actually forgot? Had they gotten so caught up that the forgot about everything? … Yeah, it sure felt like it.

_"This is real." _

Saying something is real isn’t saying goodbye. It’s also the exact opposite of bullshit.Before drifting off to sleep Steve tucks those thoughts away. Hopes that, _not forever_ isn’t much longer.

The Harrington family as a whole gets together twice a yea; Christmas Eve dinner, and Easter brunch. While they’re big on the family name they aren’t so big on spending time together. Which Steve is, a hundred percent okay with.

Every year for Christmas Eve dinner his mom makes the same potatoes au gratin that she makes every year. It’s what Steve is hunch over and digging around in the fridge for. Out of their very small family Steve likes his dad’s sister, Aunt Dotty the best. She doesn’t give a, _rat’s ass_ about the family name and thinks Steve should _explore_ before he gets tied down working for his dad. This year he listened to her and thought about what she said in a way he hadn’t before. 

He had really considered going to work for his dad when he was dating Nancy. He considered it for all the wrong reasons, he can admit to that now. It was easy, he didn’t have to think about what he might actually want and in some backwards way he thought it would help him hold on to Nance. Steve still has no idea what he wants to do when he graduates but knows it’s not working for his dad, thanks to Dotty he feels a little less shitty about it. 

Steve puts the avocado green Tupperware container of left over potatoes in the microwave. The last dinner guest left awhile ago. Steve spent an hour hiding out,getting ready for bed as a way to dodge his parents. Thought about staying in his room for the rest of the night but then he decided why not raid the fridge, stay up and watch some MTV or something. Because the truth is if he stays in his room he’ll probably radio Max. Turns out three days feels like forever. 

Hopper radioed in the afternoon and it helped. Knowing the judge sided with Billy took the edge off of what he was feeling. Steve woke up not so sure that he would make it through the day without doing something stupid like showing up at the courthouse or driving over to Billy’s house. Couldn’t call because he doesn’t have the phone number. 

The potatoes come out of the microwave too hot to eat. Steve grabs the tin of Christmas cookies from the cupboard overhead, bites the head off of a snowman. The sweet frosting colliding with his freshly brushed teeth. He makes a face at the taste but keeps chewing. He could radio Max now, just to make sure things were okey or play it cool and ask for the phone number. Wait, how is radioing to ask for a phone number playing it cool? Steve’s loosing his touch. 

The phone rings, the sound bounces around the empty house, jarring the quiet. The sudden noise sends Steve pulse racing. He shots a look to the microwave clock. Who the hell calls after nine o’clock on Christmas Eve?He slides across the floor in his socks, picks up the kitchen phone before the third ring, “This is the Harringtons, what can I do you for?”

There is a ruffling noise and then a very familiar voice come through on the line,“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the one to answer. I thought I was going to have to talk to like your mom or dad.”

“Max?” Steve asks in quiet surprise. Confusion quickly over taken by worry. _Billy. _His heart starts beating the boy’s name.

“Just, hold on.” She orders.

Steve looks over his shoulders, both his parents went to bed but his mom is probably still up, reading in bed. He half listens for the sound of someone coming, but the house has sunk back into a quiet state. Max must have her hand hand over the mouth piece of the phone, Steve can hear her muffled words as she talks,_ He answered, take it, just take it. _There is more tissue paper like noise and then a long pause.

_“_Hey.”

The sound of Billy’s voice is all Steve needs. One word, sends Steve’s thoughts on a relay race. All the little things he’s thought about over the last couple days start coming together. 

“Hey.” Steve waits. Can hear Billy exhale, then a sounds like he’s about to start talking and then the exhale when the words don’t come.

Steve needs to see him. His thoughts cross the finish line. He wraps the phone cord around his hand, keeps his voice quiet and ask, “Billy- - - I - how mad would you be if I climbed through your window tonight?”

“_Steve_.”

His mind is already made up. Steve leans into the wall, paranoid his voice will travel. Rushes to say in a hushed tone, _“_Listen, I’m coming over and you can kick me out whenever or lock your window and not let me in. I’ll sleep in the Beamer. I don’t care.”

Just as hushed but so much rougher Billy answers. “Last window on the right side of the house is my room.” Then the line clicks as Billy abruptly hangs up.

Steve hangs up the phone, mouths over the words committing where Billy’s room is to memory. A mixture of nerves and relief hit Steve. It’s a strong combination, his palms feel sweaty and there are butterflies in his stomach. Steve turns, swings around. Oh shit! His mother is standing in the kitchen, shawl wrapped around herself. He takes a step back in surprise and makes a strange sputtering sound.

“Who was calling at this time of night?” She asks. When he doesn’t answer right away she adds. “Was it a girl? Nancy Wheeler?”

He inhales sharply. Steve looks at his mom, really looks at her. In a way he feels sorry for her. She never wanted to be a mother. She and his dad were just playing their parts but Steve can’t settle for being a puzzle pieces that doesn’t fit. He’s simple but he’s not so simple that he is willing to waste his life trying to fit into the role of a dutiful son who will follow in his father's footsteps or whatever they were going after when they decided to have a kid.

Blame it on the combination of nerves and butterflies, or aunt Dotty or the experience of the last few months or maybe he’s just too tired to care at this point. All he wants is Billy. “It’s wasn't a girl.” He gestures with a hand like he’s showing his cards, hand turning over, palm facing up. 

He sees something pass over her eyes like surprise but she doesn’t actual look surprised. She pulls tighter at her shawl. Steve waits for her to say something, anything, because he pretty much just told her he likes a boy. Sure, she’s got a friend that’s a homosexual, not a faggot, as she reminds his father when he uses that slur but Steve is her son and-

She watches him closely for a second longer before asking, “Does - Does he have a name?”

Steve exhales. One corner of his mouth pulls up into a lopsided grin. Always polite, his mother is always polite, the lady of the house. He’s thankful for it in a way he’s never been before. There is no disgust in her tone, even if she’s looking at him like she’s curious as to who he is. Seventeen, almost eighteen years and she doesn’t really know him. They might not be complete strangers like him and his dad are but the distance between them is noticeable. 

“Billy. His name is Billy Hargrove.”

“Short for William?” She questions.

He doesn’t know, “Yeah, I think so. Listen, I’m going over to his house and nothing is going to stop me."

She looks down, toys with her wedding ring. Steve catches a look of concentrations passing over her face. He waits for whatever is coming, braces for it. She finally raises her head, holds it high. “I’m going to leave your father. He knows. We want to present a united front on this, we don’t need gossip spreading at his work or anywhere else for that matter. We were going to tell you after New Years but now is as good of time as any.”

Honestly he doesn’t care whether his parents stay married or not. The surprise Steve is feeling is that his mom has finally done it. Has done something for herself that’s doesn’t involve trailing after his asshole father. 

He feels like she gave him a truth in exchange for his honestly. He smiles at her. “Good for you, mom.” He means it.

“Are you going to stay out all night?” She moves in the direction of the kettle on the stove top. Going to make herself tea. Takes a cookies from the tin on the counter.

“I-I don’t know.” He doesn’t, Billy is zero to sixty, tonight could go either way.

“I want you home for breakfast. We will be eating at ten but try to be home before that.”

That’s it, no more or less. The conversation is over, has moved on, Steve can be alright with that.

His mom turns the radio on, the quiet sound of Christmas music follows him as he makes his way upstairs to grab the keys to the Beamer. When he comes back he find his jacket set out for him. Distant but caring. Those are the two word he would use to describe her.She might have more question for him later but none that will go much deeper than the surface.

It’s snowing, small, icy flakes that sound like grains of sand when they hit the ground.

Looking in the rear view mirror before starting the car Steve repeats, _This is real_. The words ground him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments have been awesome, and they keep me going. Thanks for reading! Let me know if you enjoyed it.


	11. Pound for Pound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. Naturally the longest but I hope not a word feels wasted and that it makes for satisfying end to this story. Enjoy!
> 
> PS. Half plot and half porn. Read the tags.

Billy lays across his unmade bed, feet tucked under the forest green blanket,headphones on, Def Leppard playing, cutting out the sound of Bing Crosby crooning Christmas songs that’s drifting from the living room back to his room and through the closed door. He studies the shadows on the ceiling. The table lamp by the mirror is the only light on in his room. This house is going to be the closest thing he’s had to a home. He stays here until he’s eighteen, until summer or longer if he wants. Susan made a point that he understood she wouldn’t kick him out after his birthday.

Over the last couple days him and Susan have been making little peace offerings to each other. The obvious guilt she feels for not speaking up sooner stays written across her face when she looks at him or talks to him. It makes Billy feel uncomfortable, makes him feel like shit too. He was dismissive of her. Treated Susan like she was stupid. Thinking back on it makes him feel too much like his dad, a stone’s throw away from being his old man. The way he grabbed Max in the car and went after the those kids, the way he came unhinged and beat on Steve. All of it makes his stomach turn. He could hate himself for it but that wouldn’t get him anywhere but feeling like shit for it, that’s reasonable.

Decision were made today, Billy made some of his own too. He’s not going to become his old man, it’s the best way to stick it to him. Better than that it’s the best way to break free. _"__Family is what you make it."_ He turns over the Chief’s words, picks at them, unable to leave them alone, until he reaches a conclusion. Always thought Neil had all the power, he’s tired of thinking that way. Tried of being who he was becoming as Neil Hargrove’s son.

The peace offerings, the olive branches him and Susan have been offering up to each other are done with a certain amount of awkwardness. The charm and self-confidence Billy has wielded like a shield or a weapon, he’s been unable to conjure it up with the usual ease.

This morning before breakfast Susan had smiled at him, gave him one of her unsure smiles, a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Told him in a hesitant but warm voice that he looked nice in his blue button up shirt. She was probably just relieved that she didn’t have to tell him to dress nicely for the court hearing, but all the same she went out of her way to be nice to him. Nice to the seventeen year old hell raiser, who’s never done shit for her. 

Billy had skipped out on breakfast. He didn’t need any witnesses to watch him as he aggressively chain smoked. He went out into the crips winter morning and smoked on the covered porch until Chief Hopper arrived to drive them down to the courthouse. 

It was over in less than two hours. Neil Hargrove wrote off his only son and ditched his perfect family while at it. Billy hadn’t seen his old man since the night of the snowstorm, when Officer Powell drove off with him cuffed and in the back seat of the patrol car.

When Neil walked into the small, unimpressive courtroom, Billy had been able to fight down the snarl making its way onto his face, pulled it back as his nostrils flared. The hate coming through his eyes was unstoppable, could feel it burning his pupils, on the verge of actual pain.

Neil’s eyes had bore into Billy. Long gone was the look of disapproval and disappointment Billy had come to know as well as the back of his own hand or his dad’s right hook. It had been replace with pure disgust. Neil held his head high, the stink of superiority rolling off him in waves as he walked by and went to take a seat next to his lawyer.

Neil’s lawyer’s tactic had been to lump Neil and the judge together. Tried to win over the old, grey haired judge by relating the two men as the same kind of people, _respectable _people. Billy figured the lawyer was working so hard for the judges’ approval because it would come in handy when the divorce proceedings happen. He made Susan out to be a thoughtless wife, Max was ungrateful and Billy was - well there was something deeply wrong with him. Neil Hargrove did his best, he’s no quitter but he knows when to move on. _"__You can’t help those who do not want to help themselves." _The words might have come out of the lawyers mouth but they was no mistaking they were his dad’s words. 

Judge Adams didn’t hide his distaste at being lump together with the likes of Neil Hargrove, eyes squinted from under bushy eyebrow, looked at Billy’s old man like you’d look at a fly on the wall, while you tried to decide between smacking it or letting it fly off.

When it came time to actually argue for custody, Neil didn’t even try to keep him and that fucked up Billy for some fucked up reason. Made him think of his mom and how she never came back for him. Neil glanced over at him once before turning to Judge Adams and standing up to say in a,_ woe is me,_ tone that Billy was nothing he hoped for out of a son, he wouldn’t be fighting Susan’s petition for custody_. _Just like that it was done. Seventeen years of hell, of bruises and beatings. Billy bled for Neil’s shit ideals and he wrote him off in less than two minutes and no more than five sentences. The bright lights in the courtroom blurred together as Billy saw red, for a second his body went rigid, fist clenched in hot anger.

From the bench behind Hopper had laid a hand lightly on Billy’s shoulder, leaned in close and whispered, _"__He’s not worth it, remember family is what you make it, kid." _The words pulled him back, kept him from going ballistic.

People are showing up for Billy, what started as just Harrington has turned into Susan, Max and the Chief too. His life has shifted, all those lies he’s been living, up rooted and tossed aside. He’s not navigating lies anymore, he’s navigating truths. 

The dinner that Susan made tonight was tuna noodle casserole, made it because she knows Billy likes it and said as much. Max set the table and Billy helped. When the three of them sat down together it felt like a first, like all those shitty dinners with Neil didn’t count and this was their first meal together.

He cleaned up after they were done eating, did the dishes. Not because he had to but because he wanted to. It was the least he could do. A one leaf olive brach in comparison to what had been handed to him in the last few days.

Billy’s mind drifts to something his dad liked to say, _"__No one wants a faggot for a son."_ It wasn’t him and pretty boy at the diner that had confirmed for Neil that his only child, his son, was a queer, it was Steve showing up later that night. That has to be it. They might have caught Neil stepping out on Susan but he turned the tables, deflected, made the beating about how shameful it was to be out in public like that with another boy. He questioned Billy about it, demanded answers, face angry and red, before landing the first blow. Then pretty boy had been there, out in the cold of night looking scared shitless, looking like Billy’s safety meant something to him. Unknowingly answering Neil’s questions.

Full one faggot, queer blood pumping in his veins. He toys with his necklace, runs his fingers up the chain like Steve does. Billy has no clue why Steve likes the necklace so much, pretty sure if he asked about it he wouldn’t have a good answer for Billy either.

He wants pretty boy. Has bat his eyelashes at him, use his lines, nothings gotten him as far with Steve as the truth. The truth is - the other boy makes him feel too much. Billy feels his age, feels seventeen. Feels young. With all of his anger he’s been fighting his youth, fighting for the control that being young and Neil’s fits kept taking for him. He learned to love the fight, planted his feet and leaned into it; with the loud music, the loud car, the attitude and energy. He doesn’t need it with Steve, not that pretty boy wanted it. The enticing charm that draws people to Billy, pretty boy’s was never interested in it.

A slip of much brighter light spreads on the ceiling, the door to his bedroom opening. 

It snaps Billy’s attention back to his room. Has to be Maxine. Knows it’s her and not Susan before glancing to the door because Susan always knocks. Knocks loud enough for Billy to hear it over whatever music he has playing and however he is listening to it.

He drags his headphones off. “Thought you were going to bed, Max. Stay up much later and you’ll get coal in your stocking.” Billy says without looking at her.

“Whatever, I am. But I saw your light was on.” From the corner of his eye he sees her take couple more steps forward.

“So?” Billy asks. Something tells him this isn’t a social visit. She’s got an agenda. He stretches on his bed and yawns, showing his disinterest.

“_So_, have you talked to Steve yet?” Her voice tips toes over the question.

His heart jumps at Steve’s name but he keeps still on his bed and takes his time responding, doesn't rush it. “_So_, you were eavesdropping?” Billy’s guard comes up because it’s the only thing he knows how to do in this situation. Because the softness in her voice and they way she asked makes him feel like she’s got a hunch. He chances another glance her way.

“Are you going to radio Steve or what?” She squints at him with a question in her eyes, one that she not asking. She has heard Neil call him a faggot more than once, a pansy a couple of times too. All the questions he asked about Steve his first night back didn’t help any either, and neither did Chief Hopper’s parting comment that she must have overheard.

“No. I’m not radioing anyone, Max. And I’m pretty sure castle Harrington has a telephone in every room.” He turns his gaze back to the ceiling as he says it.

“Why not? You like him don’t you? And you never like anybody. That’s got to count for something. Plus you stayed at his house for days. He’s - I don’t know - _invested_.” She says the last word like she’s questioning using it. Like it might suggest too much and set him off.

“I don’t have his phone number.” End of conversation. Billy keeps his eyes to the ceiling, looking at it like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen with all the little hairline cracks in the plaster. It’s laughable how lacking it is, not nearly suggestive enough. Balls deep, kissing while fucking, stay away but not forever,_invested_.

“I want you out of my room. Get a move on, for fuck’s sake.”

“But, Hop said-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He gives her a final warning.

“Fine.” With one word she’s gone, door clicking closed behind her. He can hear the wooden floor boards in the hallway squeak as she makes her way back to her room. Without Bing singing his head off the house has gone quiet. 

_"You know, Steve Harrington would probably like to hear from you."_

Billy thinks over the Chief’s parting words. Had phrased it as one more thing he need to say to Billy before leaving. _"__One more thing. You know, Steve Harrington would probably like to hear from you."_

He knows Steve would. Pretty boy is sweet on him, nothing about what Steve makes Billy feel is sweet…

The slip of light spreads across the ceiling again and this time, without his headphones on he hears the door creak. Goddamnit, Max is back.

“You can’t just come into my room, shitbird.” Billy snaps out, covers his eyes with his hands, nails digging into his eyebrows, doesn't want to loose his temper with her, tries to think through the building irritation.

“You can be mad at me later, if you want.”

What kind of fucking offer is that? He can tell she’s coming closer, there is a recognizable sound - she picking something up. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asks voice not hiding his waning patience. He takes a deep breath in, lets it fill he lungs and then exhales with a groan.

“I radioed Dustin and got Steve’s number from him.”

His brain skips over the bratty tone she delivers the words with and goes right to getting himself up into a sitting positions, kicking the green blanket onto the floor as he races to make a move, fully aware of where this is heading.

Max has the phone up to her ear, she’s quick on her feet, backs up as far as the cord will let her go while Billy swings his legs over the bed and stands up. Determined, she holds her ground. This is the girl that stuck him with a syringe, it makes Billy pause for all of three seconds. Small and scrappy with all that red hair.

“Hang up the fucking phone, Maxine!” Billy hisses hard, coming to looming over her, making to grab the phone out of her hand.

She raises up on her tip toes and snaps back. “I can’t, it’s already ringing, asshole.”

The pacing isn’t helping and neither are the two cigarettes he just smoked. Maxine, that little shit, she bailed as soon as she forced him to take the phone from her. He got bested by a fourteen year old and there’d be hell for her to pay if Steve wasn’t on his way over.

It’s goddamn Christmas Eve and Harrington is sneaking over to be with him. The former King of Hawkins High is going to climb through his window like Billy is some love sick chick. All those not sweet feeling he has for Steve they are swirling around in him like a whirlpool, going around and around.

Billy goes hunting through drawers looking for a pack of gum, because he could smoke what’s left of his cigarettes in two minutes flat. Opens and closes drawers quickly but quietly, it’s getting late, needs to keep the noise down. He finally finds a pack of Big Red gum under the decoy titty magazines in his bedside table. The girls with their perfectly plastered on sex faces stare up at Billy, knowing his secret. He slams the drawer shut, too irritated to care about the one loud noise.

He chews the piece of gum aggressively, while messing with his curls and checking himself out in the mirror. He hangout at Harrington’s house with his curls all frizzy for days, what the fuck does it even matter - but it does. He turns from the mirror and his reflections with annoyance, earring swinging. He showers at night and he hasn’t yet. Wishes he already had so his curls were under control.Plus Susan might think somethings is up. He’s never risked trying to sneak a guy into his room. He grew up in a home where even his room wasn’t safe._ Safe_. It’s a feeling he gets sometimes with Steve. The days spent snowed in together, that first night, pretty boy used the word and by the end Billy believed it. He is safe with Steve. He tries not to think too long about that, makes him feel raw and open, the whole day has him feeling that way. 

The cinnamon gum isn’t helping to take the edge off, Billy needs a smoke. He snatches his pack and lighter up, the desire to layer the flavor a tobacco on top of cinnamon over powering. Needs that nicotine buzz. With one hand he pulls the wooden bedside table back from the window. Billy has a good grip on it, doesn’t make much noise while it slides. This is the window pretty boy is going to have to climb through, if he ever shows. It’s getting later by the minute.

Billy tosses the pack of smokes and lighter on the windowsill. Has already tacked the blanket used as a curtain to the side. With both hands he slides the lower frame up as far as it will go, has to give it a shimmy to get it all the way up. Cold air and tiny snowflakes drift in as the warm air makes an escape. His eye adjust quickly to the winter night.

Harrington.

Steve is standing there looking just as surprised as Billy feels. Heart racing, he wasn’t expecting to open the window and have him be right there, no more than twenty feet away. The surprise makes Billy suck in a a deep breath of cold air through parted lips, feels his eye widen. 

The mixture of ice and snow is coming down thick. Steve’s frame is made bulkier by the layers he’s got to have on.

Pretty boy is looking at him, with that look, the one that makes Billy feel seen. And just like that he’s not mad at Maxine like he was before, might have to thank her, maybe.

He lets go of the window, and takes a step back, willing Steve to come forward and into his room.

~~~~~~~~~

The snow keeps coming down in a mixture of icy crystals and growing flakes. Steve’s foot steps are careful. It’s dark, this part of Hawkins has almost no streetlamp. Billy’s house is coming into view. During the day the Beamer would stick out like a sore thumb on Cherry lane, at this time of night it would draw attention that Steve doesn’t want. He ditched it back up on Maple.

The freezing air is sobering. Steve been over to Billy’s house a grand total of two times. Once to drop off Max and the other time because he was like ninety- nine percent sure Neil was going to kill Billy. This time makes it three. Three is a lucky number, Steve goes with it. Not sure if it is luck he needs but he he’ll take it anyway. The sound of icy snow covered gravel crunching under the soles of his tennis shoe gives him something to focus on besides the hammering of his heart. He shoves his hand farther into his jacket’s pockets, balling them into fists, shivers in the bone chilling cold of night.

This could suck. Like really, really suck. There is no thrill waiting for him, no surprise and nervous delight that came with climbing through Nancy’s window or any of the other girls. It use to be a move, back when he was King, a dumb teenager living it up for all the bullshit moments. Climb through the girl’s window, see her blush, get a few kisses or maybe a little more and feel like a hot shot, not get caught by her father, and live to tell the story to Tommy and Carol. Jesus, he was a dick.

Steve is past wanting all of that fake stuff, he wants something more. Billy might too, at least Steve thinks he might. He’s gotten better at reading between the lines, better at understand Billy’s language.

There are still exception, though. _This is real. _Three relatively simple words and they’ve got Steve stumped, he’s hung up them. Yeah, okay, when something is real it’s the opposite of being fake but Steve can’t shake the feeling that in Billy speak, he is missing the bigger picture.

Steve sees it, the last window, the faint glow of light coming from it. He picks up the pace eager to get to Billy and inside where it’s warm. Cutting across the snow covered yard he leaves foot prints that will quickly be filled by freshly falling snow. 

He is almost to the house when movement in the window catches his eyes, can just make out the figure of Billy, before he disappears from the frame. How does Steve get in, should he knock on the glass? Numb feet quicken their pace. Billy comes back into view, the window goes shooting open without warning, Steve slides to a halt in surprise. Breath coming out in white puffs that drift up. The blood in his veins pumping warm, raising the temperature of his body. 

The look of surprise on Billy’s face is clear even at this distance. 

All Steve wants is him. The rightness of this moment feels daunting.

Billy drops his arms from the raised window, takes a step back like he’s daring Steve to make the first move.

~~~~~~~~~

This moment is more telling than any other, they both seem aware of it, uncharacteristically cautious. They stand frozen in place, close but not touching, eyes searching, apprehensive, something close to stage fright. The open window they are next to lets the chill from the night in. Neither of them seem to notice. Billy watches Steve, the way he is chancing glances at him, questionings eyes roaming, taking in the room around him then back to Billy. A hesitant smile pulling at one corner of Steve’s mouth. Finally he tilts his head like he’s going to say something but instead runs a hand through his hair, messing it up some more. 

This is ridiculous. Billy licks his lips, hums in quiet amusement and takes a step closer. “Don’t tell me you came all this way just to stand around, pretty boy.” The words come out more breathless than he would like but he also can’t bring himself to care.

Steve shakes his head, soft smile spreading. “I came here for you, but I kind of think you know that.” The quiet tone of his voice making it rougher than it usually is. 

Billy does, he reaches out takes the fabric of Steve jacket between two fingers, gives a tug, there’s no force behind it but it brings him a step closer. “How long do you have?” He asks, becoming aware that they could be wasting time.

Steve eyebrows go up, he gives a little shrug, smile turning sheepish. “I mean, I didn’t come all this way just to turn around and go home.” The sheepishness fades as he stammers on. “My mom- she um- I told her that I didn’t know if I would be back home - tonight.”

He smirks in amusement and takes a step forward, hand coming up to toy with the zipper of Steve’s jacket. “Well, well, well. Call me surprised. I didn’t think Mama Harrington would approve of the family heir running off to mess around with some _girl_ all night long.”

“Yeah, about that…” Steve takes a deep breath, starts looking nervous, unsure. Automatically Billy doesn’t like it, cocks his head and studies Steve, those pretty eyes of his are asking Billy not to be mad at him. “She knows. Like _knows,_ knows. I told her.”

Steve’s words take a moment to sink in, like oil sitting on top of water before is slowly descends. Billy stops playing with the zipper, drops his hand. Steve swallows and keeps talking. “My mom is really well respected in this town, not just because of the family name and shit. She’s not a gossip and people like her for it. She won’t say anything to anyone. Look, what I’m trying to say is I didn’t want to lie, not about me or who I was going to see. I meant what I said. I came here for you Billy.”

Billy feels angry and nauseous and somethings else that helps keep the first two feelings at bay. The feeling is something more powerful. Never thought he’d be the boy that a guy told his parents about because the thought never even crossed his mind. His belief was what? Queers don’t get a happy ending? You didn’t tell dear old mom about the guy you were screwing, you hid him, like you hid yourself, the dirties secret of all. The thought feels physical, ears buzzing his world tilts on its axis. It leaves him feeling even more open and raw than before.Steve is here for him and he’s not holding back. It lands like a blow, knocks him sideways. 

“I can go, if you want. If I screwed up-“ The way pretty boy is looking at him is pleading and filled with concern, eyebrows pinched, eyes fill with endless emotion.

“No.” Billy grunts out. Needing a second he steps around Steve taking the space at open window for himself. The ache under his ribs, stronger than its ever been, a piercing pain that’s both good and bad. Bitter and sweet. He can feel Steve watching him, waiting for more of an answer than one word but Billy, he needs more than one second, can feel fucking tears burning in his eyes.

He rests his palms flat on the poorly painted white windowsill, pushes down hard trying to work out the upheaval of emotions through his palms and fingertips. Welcomes the crisp night air on his face, closes his eyes and makes a decision because why not make one more today.

He leans farther out the window hocks the flavorless gum out. Takes one last deep breath then closes the window, decision made. Looks over his shoulder at Steve, who is standing back, giving him space, looking wounded and fucking worried. This boy cares about him. What Billy does with that is his choice, he’s in control. He is use to being reckless, he doesn’t get to be reckless with this, doesn’t want to be. The feeling is new. A different kind of fire.

“I’m not mad at you.” The words fill the quiet space that settled over them. He watches Steve let out the breath he was holding, face softening with obvious relief. “There are reason why we can’t just go running our mouths about this. You understand that right?” He’s heard the stories of what’s happens to queers that get caught by the wrong people, Steve must have as well. 

Steve nods with the seriousness of understanding. “I got it, Billy.”

The knock isn’t quiet, it rattles the door, breaking the moment. Both their eyes go wide with surprise. It takes a second knock for them to turn and look at the closed bedroom door.

“Billy, are you going to shower tonight?” Susan asks, voice slightly muffled by the door.

Steve’s snaps his head back, looking to follow Billy’s lead. Billy press a finger to lips, giving silent instruction for Steve to keep quiet. “Yeah, Susan. I’m heading that way.”

There’s a pause, and then, “Alright, I’ll leave the hallway light on for you, but will you make sure to turn it off once you go to bed?”

“Sure thing. I won’t be up much later.” He calls back to her.

Billy left Steve in his room with the promise of being quick. His room isn’t like Steve’s. The plaid walls and matching curtains might be ugly as sin but they’re expensive, all the furniture matches, a set bought at the same time, and the poster hanging on the wall is framed. The class difference that has always been there, the fact that Steve’s family has money to burn makes Billy feel uncomfortable for the first time. Not much makes him feel that way, he’s having a hard time shaking it off. His room speaks of how little he’s been brought up with, no custom made curtains hang in his windows, just old blankets held up by tacks, not a single piece of furniture was made to go with the others. His room is filled with stray things brought together.

Billy drops his head forwards under the spray of water, rises the shampoo out of his hair. Most nights he’ll run the hot water down, only gets out moments before the water turns cold. He doesn’t tonight, rushes through washing and then drying himself off once he’s out. Grabs his tooth brush but stops mid-brush when he realizes his mistake of leaving his sleeping short in his bedroom. Spits in the sink and swears. Gives himself one quick look in the mirror his reflection stares back at him open and unsure, a flavor a vulnerable he’s not use to seeing. He turns from it, stocks back to his room with the towel slung low on his hips, he turns off the hall light as he goes.

Billy opens the door slowly, knows how to lean into it the right way to keep it from creaking. Steve is standing with his back to the door, hunched over, shoulders rolled forward, looking through the cassette tapes Billy organized and put away the other night.

He steps into his room, bare feet quiet on the hardwood floor, closes the door soundlessly behind him. Steve must sense his presence because he straights up and turns, casting a look over his shoulder.

The smile on Steve’s face slips as he turns the rest of the way, eyes taking Billy in. Taking everything in, from his damp curls, to his bare chest, to the towel, down to his thick calfs and bare feet. When his doe eyes come back up he gives a self-conscious smile at being caught looking.

Under his gaze Billy’s grip on the towel tightness, like a goddamn virginal bookworm, who’s about to get her cherry popped by the King of Hawkins High, like he has a thing called modestly. Billy has to look away, his cheeks are burning, the sensation new.

All he wanted was pretty boy’s eyes on him, the attention of the King. Went peacocking around for it the first week of school without shame, on the court, in the showers. Now, he walks over to Steve on pins and needles, heel to toe, steps falling evenly. Steve just keeps staring at him, like Billy is the best thing he’s ever seen.

Steve takes a slow step forward, one hand jerking up, reaching out and then abruptly dropping back to his side. In a quiet voice he asks. “Um, do you - would you like me to turn around?”

Tilting his head, Billy looks at Steve from under his eyelashes, the warmth he sees in those dark eyes is just for him. “Is that what you want? For me to get dressed?” Billy teases with his words. Is a flirt. 

Steve nods, gives a quiet laugh at himself, then shakes his head. “No, no.”

Billy wonders what thought were going around in that pretty head of his that he nodded yes too. He runs his index finger down the zipper of Steve’s jacket. “Why do you still have this on?” Billy asks in a hushed voice, needing Steve to be less dressed, to even the playing field.

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Steve starts fumbling with his jacket while toeing his shoes off at the same time, gets all wobbly, trying to do both things at once. Billy steps in to help, hands coming up to drag the jacket down off his shoulders, impatience growing as need builds. Sneaking touches as they work together to get the navy blue sweater and t-shirt underneath over Steve’s head. Billy’s fingertips brushing exposed skin, while Steve drops the sweater to the floor, free hand reaching for Billy, taking hold of him just above the low slung towel.

The first kiss is soft, so soft, the gentleness of it tears at Billy. The sincerity of it making him hold his breath, eyes closed, brows knitted in concentration. Steve’s other hand comes to rest on the back oh his neck, carefully brushing his hair out of they way. Warmth spreading between them.

The kisses are slow, like this is their first time kissing. Maybe it is a first. Familiar and gentle but still there is newness to them. Billy is being rearranged from the inside, broken down and built back up. He can’t go back to how things were before, can’t un-taste, un-feel. The ache under his ribs becoming the strongest thing in his life. The aches got pretty boy's name written all over it. He uses his hold on Steve to drag him closer. They push into each other, chest to chest. Strong hands tangle in his curls, tugging, tilting his head, slotting their lips together in a more forceful way. 

Billy moans, walks Steve backwards to his bed, arms wrapped around him tight. Pretty boy makes a needy little humming noise, it helps to harden Billy’s cock. Helps to get the blood rushing, down, down, down.

Steve untangle his hands from Billy’s damp curls to travels down the length of his back, fingertips presses in, kneading flesh as they go. Fingers come to play with the towel restingbelow the jut of his hipbones, abdomen muscles jumping, answering yes to the touch. Billy licks into the kisses, turning the heat up. Tongues slide and lick together, wet and purposefully sloppy.

Billy knows Steve likes to touch, has had his hands on his body before, the way he touches isn’t unfamiliar but he is still clothed and Billy is naked. It gives the other boy an advantage, not that this is a competition, but he has a hard time pulling away from that mind set when he is feeling this exposed. Billy breaks the kiss to ask, “What do you want?” 

“I mean-“ Steve rest his forehead to Billy’s, looks down between them to where his fingers are running over the edge of towel. “I- I want to taste you. Can I taste you?” Looks back up to stare into Billy’s eyes all earnest and open.

Fuck.

The weight of the damp towel, nothing against his hardening cock. He’s raising a tent.

“You want to suck me off, that’s what you’re saying?”

“Yeah.”

Fuck.

“Touch me first.” Why Billy is stalling, he has no idea. Getting his dick is Steve’s mouth was the goal from the very beginning, that could be answer, though. The agenda he started with is long gone.

Steve dips his hands lower, takes hold of the fabric and pulls, hands slide to touch at the newly exposed skin. The towel slumps on the floor, around Billy’s feet. 

Steve strokes him, hands more sure than the last time but just as generous with how he touches. The strokes are strong and deliberate. Thumb pausing to rub and tease at the thick vein under the cock head, then circle all the way around.

There is an openness in Billy’s eyes, knows it because of how Steve is looking back at him. He turns his head way, like he can get out from under Steve’s stare. Steve presses a soft kiss to Billy’s warm cheek. Noses at his temple and kisses again. All while pumping his cock, grip tightening. The other hand pressed firm to the dip in Billy’s lower back, gently holding him close. Billy’s hips give shallow bucks into Steve’s touch. He quietly grunts and moans.

It’s when he really starts to leak precome that Steve drops to his knees as Billy takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. Billy is throbbing for the wet heat of Steve’s mouth. This is the first time that something like this isn’t a notch on his belt. He touches as Steve face, pulls at him for a kiss. From between the V of his legs Steve gives in, lets Billy kiss him, raises up on his knees to meet him half way.

Steve whispers, “Just, please -Billy, let me.” 

Billy grunts and nods yes, eyes locked with Steve’s, can see how blown his pupils are.

The innocents of the first testing licks is so hot Billy’s vision blurs for a second, fingers going tight in Steve’s hair to keep himself grounded. He licks with the tip of his tonguefrom where his hand holds the base of Billy’s cock up to the crown, tongue flattening on the way. He does it again, spreading his saliva, mouths at the head, licks at Billy’s slit, catching the liquid seeping out. Makes little humming sounds in appreciation, that vibrate. Once he’s good and familiar with the territory he sucks Billy in, closes his mouth around him, tongue swirling. Billy’s head lulls back on a moan that he keeps trapped in his throat, one hand clutching at the edge of the mattress, fighting to keep his hips from bucking.Steve pulls off, the sound is wet, then sinks back down after taking audible shaky breath. He starts bobbing, warm, wet, heat - taking Billy deeper. 

Deeper. Like he’s had enough girls gag on his monster cock that he knows when you go deep you need to take it slow and breath. He still gags though, making Billy’s balls pull up tight. Aching for a quick release, too keyed up by the whole experience. Steve pulls off to catch his breath, licks under the head and over the fat vein. His hold on the base of Billy’s cock tightens, the contrast between the gentle, wet licks and firm hold, sparking pleasure that’s going to burn his brain to a crisp. Steve starts to pump his hand, the spit having run down easing the slid. Billy can’t stop his hips from the slowly rocking.

“Fuck - _fuck_.” The breathless words escape his mouth, Billy sucks in his bottom lip and bites down on it, muffling the moan that was going to follow them. Pretty boy is so pretty, so hot. He’s going to have bruises on his knees from this. Good bruises, telling marks. The thought makes Billy’s balls ache. Maybe it’s a little fucked up but he is too gone to fully grasp at that thought. That there is a good kind of bruise.

With the hand not pumping Billy’s cock, Steve is rubbing himself through his jeans. The picture gets prettier, filthier, better than what Billy’s dirty mind came up with when he thought about this, got off on the idea of getting his dick into Steve’s mouth.

Steve closes his mouth around the swollen head of Billy’s cock. Pretty doe eyes raise to look at Billy as the wet heat of his mouth slides down, moves his hand from the cock’s base over to grasp at Billy’s hip. Head bobbing he goes farther every times. Going - going - going. Until his nose is pushed into the dark blonde curls at the base, until Billy’s cock settles in the back of his throat, he breath through it, throat working.

Billy’s back draws tight like a bow, balls aching in the pleasure of release, both hands clutching at the back of Steve’s head, instincts telling him to keep him there, the first surge of come going down his throat.

The hand Steve had been using to rub at himself with, is pushing on the inside of Billy’s thigh, wordless communication as his throat starts to protest. Something Billy can both feel and hear.

Pulling back spreads the come pulsing out of his cock onto Steve’s tongue. Giving him more than the taste he asked for. He swallows Billy’s load down, wide eyed, caught between innocence of the first time and need. Billy watches from hooded eyes riding the wave of release. High on pleasure.

Steve’s pupils are fully blown, eyes dark, open mouthed panting, lips puffy in a way that only comes from sucking cock. The bulge in his pants, unforgiving. Billy watches his throat work as he swallows and licking in his own mouth, feeling and tasting the residue of come. Billy pulls on Steve’s hair, tugs hard. Steve pushes himself up from the floor and onto the bed.

Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he has Billy straddled. One hand holds onto the nape of his neck while he uses the other to start rubbing at himself again. 

The kisses are hot and heavy, sparing no expense. Billy gets to licking into Steve’s mouth, tasting himself there. It’s primal, base. If his mouth wasn’t so busy he’d as if Steve liked his taste.

The fight with getting pretty boy’s pants unbuttoned is more of a battle of their hurried hands, a game a bloody knuckles. Grunts and mumbled curses break past theirs lips.

They need room to work, Billy lets himself fall back, making a soft thud as his back makes contact with mattress. It’s easier now to get Steve’s cock free, pop the top button and pulls the zipper down. Reach into his underwear, pulls out his massive cock. Harrington is hung. The thing kicks in Billy’s grip like it has a mind of its own, deep red and swollen to a point that looks painful.

Steve drops down, hand resting on the mattress, bracketing Billy in. The kisses are sloppy wet, unstoppable. Billy pumps Steve's angry, red cock, there is nothing cordial about it, no teasing or testing. He wants to make him come. It does take much, with the addition of twisting his hand on the upstroke Steve shudders, lips unable to kiss Billy back. Hot come gushes over Billy’s fingers and drips down to his chest.

~~~~~~~~~

The room is dark. They lay quietly together in Billy’s bed, their panting breathing have turned steady, the sweat on their skin cooled and dried. Billy puts a hand over the top of Steve’s lacing their fingers together. It makes the the stupid smile Steve can feel on his face grow. Watches with a slow drumming heart as Billy brings their interlocked hands up and presses a kiss to his palm, eyes closing, long lashes fanning out on his cheeks. The feeling of Billy’s lips on his palm is more than a brush, is firm, like an imprint. Steve can’t help thinking that the pressure of the kiss is more for Billy’s sake than his own. Like Billy might break himself apart if it was gentle. That giving into another person pokes at him, makes him vulnerable in a way that verges on crushing. Finally able to identify those sharp edges as armor. 

Steve shifts, moves a little closer, says in a hushed voice, “Thanks for letting me climb through your window and not kicking my ass out.” Talking makes him more aware of the sensation at the back of his throat, it’s not a bad thing. Sucking Billy off was hot, turned him on. He can add it to the growing list of things he is learning he likes. Turns out it’s kind of a long list.

A cloud pass over Billy’s eyes, brows furrowing, his lips slowly parting, Steve waits, turning his hand over, their palms now touching, holds Billy’s hand and waits for him to speak. Truth is Steve wasn’t expect this response, all he wanted was to let Billy know he was happy to be here and maybe admit that he was afraid of getting turned away by him.

The look in his blue eyes is hard, distant, thinking. “You’ve got something to say to me, Hargrove?” The question is a teasing whisper, trying to push the clouds past.

“I don’t know how to do this. You’re - I’ve never done this with another guy. How we sleep together, and everything else.” He looks down at their hands while he says it, thumb rubbing, smalls circles on the back of Steve’s hand, lashes fluttering as he watches the movement his own finger makes.

“Oh?” Breath hitches on the one word. Sleeping like sex or sleeping like in bed together? Either way he thinks about it make his face that much warmer. He came with Billy deep inside of him more than once, came hard, like being connected in that way was what he has always been looking for. Then there is the fact that he woke up the last three morning disappoint to not have Billy in his bed.

He doesn’t feel alone when Billy is around, not even in the beginning, from the moment they met. There’s plenty of people Steve has been around and still felt alone. Both his parents are home for the first time in months and the house is as good as empty. 

Piercing blues eyes travel back up to meet Steve’s. “You’re the first person to show up for me. The night of the snowstorm but before that too, the day at the quarry when you stuck your nose in everything for the first time.”

At the mention of the snowstorm Steve is flooded with disappointment and frustrations. It hits quickly because if he’s honest it has been just below the surface. Steve’s eyes dart away for a second as he gathers his thoughts, runs his free hand through his hair. When he looks back over, Billy’s eyes are trained on him, waiting. 

“I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed - Billy- I - I let you leave with your dad that night. You know - having a good idea of what he would do. Yeah, it’s done, I did it and would never ever do something like that again, but it doesn’t matter because I already did. I messed up and I feel like I should be asking you to forgive me.” Steve holds his breath and waits.

Billy turns his gaze to the ceiling, jaw clenching before he lets out a long sign, “Jesus Christ, shit with my old man, it was never your fight. And you’re not stupid, just slow as fuck on the uptake, sometimes.” Steve opens his mouth to say something more, to argue his guilt, which is _stupid _but Billy cuts him off before he can start, eyes turning to burn into him, ending the conversations with one look.“Don’t sulk like that, pretty boy. It’s not a good look for you.”

Billy takes his hand away. Steve feels it in his gut.

Sitting up, Billy turns his back to Steve, reaches over to take a cigarette out of the pack on the windowsill. Steve moves higher up onto the pillow they had been sharing, propping himself up on an arm and looks up at Billy. From under thick lashes Billy looks down on him while flicking the lighter open, the orange flame making his eyes glow as he lights up. He’s beautiful and irritating as hell. “It’s a good thing you’re beautiful, Hargrove, helps to distract from how difficult you are.”

His words give Billy pause, Steve can see it in his eyes. The look turns sad and longing like this could be over before it even begins. How much there is to loose here, shown in a glance. “I break things, Steve.” Billy finally says, lighter flicking closed. Exhaling smoke, he looks away.

Steve moves to sit up, bringing the sheet with him, the air in the room is cold, he leans back against the wall and then into Billy’s space, draping it over both of their laps. Billy doesn’t pull away, that’s something. “You know, it a choice, to break something.” Steve says cautiously.

“Choices, yeah… Are you sure about this?” Billy ask turning to look at Steve. “We’re never going to be able to hold hands in public, you know that right?” He takes a drag, eyes like a hunter, reading Steve’s expression before he can respond with words.

Warmth pricks under his skin. He brings a hand up, knuckles brushing at Billy’s jaw and says softly, “Wow, didn’t figure you for the kind of guy that thought about holding hands.”

“Don’t cream your pants.” Billy smirks despite himself.

Steve moves, indulges in letting his body brush against Billy’s as he reaches for the cigarette, wanting the relief that comes with nicotine, to help take the edge off the conversation.

Looks Billy in the eye as he takes a drag and then hands it back. Billy takes it without breaking eye contact, their fingers brushing. Steve knows Billy will always win a starting contest between the two of them. That he will cave under Billy’s blue eyes every time but he holds on long enough to say, “It’s not going to be easy - yeah, sure, fine. Doesn’t mean we have to go and make it harder. Listen, I might be a _little slow on the uptake_ but it seems kind of pointless to try and fight this.”

“I don’t know how to do this pretty boy. The other guys I’ve been with, they were just one time fucks.” He says it trying to drive the point home.

“Yeah, I heard you the first time, Hargrove.” Steve presses his lips together as he thinks. All he really wants is to make an honest go of this, just because they’re two guys does it have to be different?“The day after Christmas I’m taking the kids to the movies. Come with me. They always sit too close to the screen. You and I, we can sit in back.” Steve smiles at him before adding, “Just the two of us.” He says it smoothly working his boy next door charm. Steve realizes that the charm does something to Billy because his eyes soften, the cynical look fading. 

He leans closer, reaches down for Billy’s hand, taking it in his. “Just do me one favor Hargrove, don’t acted like we’re doomed. Okay? I’ve survived the apocalypse twice now I’d like to live a little.”

Billy’s head lulls back giving a light thump against the wall, looks at Steve from under long lashes, the look is hard to read.

“Just, say okay.” 

“Okay.” 

The weight at his back is warm, welcomed, heavy like a favorite blanket. The light spilling into the room is dawn grey, barley there, it’s early, he doesn’t need to be awake but he does if he want to enjoy this, so he holds on, fights the sleep, blinks his eyes. Billy’s room is Billy, a recognizable extension of him. Steve likes it. It’s not how he would want his room but he likes it for the Billy.

Steve has a hold on a pillow, arms wrapped around it, keeping it pulled to his chest. Billy has a similar hold on him. The arm thrown over his chest holds tight, body naked, all that muscle pushing against Steve, tipping him into the pillow he is holding. The blonde is half laying on him, lips brushing the shell of his ear, breath coming in and out with the ease of sleep.

This is the first time he’s woken up before Billy. He attempts to turn under the solid weight of the other boy, wanting to see his face but Billy tightens his hold, lets out a sleepy sigh, a sound that mixes with the rustling of the sheets. Steve shoves the pillow out of his arms, brings a hand to touch at the arm draped over him. Runs his fingertips up and down. 

Billy gives a sleepy sniff, mumbles out, “Don’t tell me you’re actually awake.”

Billy’s words tickle the shell of his ear. The smile spreading across Steve’s face at the sound of his voice is as quick as a knee jerk reaction, despite being only half awake. “Sorry, Hargrove. You’re dreaming.”

There’s a kiss being planted behind his ear, firm and solid. He pushes back into Billy, into all that warm nakednesses, muscles and still tan skin. Billy’s mass does something for Steve. They way he is thick, all of him. He might of have had school yard crushes on boys before, but this mind numbing lust is new. Being able to look at a guy and know without a doubt he wants him, finds him attractive, the sexual arousal that comes with that attraction.

The taste of Billy’s come, the way he filled his mouth and pushed into his throat, being on his knees for the other boy, all of it, he’d do it all again. Would happily do it right now. Steve rocks back absentmindedly. Billy answers by rocking forward, fattening cock rubbing up the seam of his bare ass. They find a slow rhythm, falling in and out of time, both becoming more awake, more aware with each tilt of their hips.

Steve is the first to break. Tries looking over his shoulder at Billy. Says on a shaky exhale, “I can be quiet.” Which isn’t a liejust a statement that hasn’t been tested.

Billy smiles the tip of his nose bushing Steve’s check.He hums. Says oh so quietly, “No, no you can’t. You sounded so pretty...” They haven’t actually talked about it. Shared, compared notes on what it was like. What the other had experienced. “So, so, so pretty. Moaning for me…” one of his hands runs down to cup Steve, starts slowly rubbing over his cock, palm flat. “Took my fingers so well, so good about letting me play with you.” His voice is waking rough, all gravel. “Took my cock like you were made for it.”

Steve’s brain shorts out and his mouth starts going, “It felt good - more than good.I hadn’t felt anything like it before. I didn’t come - I came. I totally came but…” He stammers the words out, voice hushed. The need to keep their voices down adding to the building heat.

The other boy huffs in amusement. “It’s a thing, coming untouched.” The words come out as thick and sweet as syrup.

“_Oh_.” His hips give a double buck. 

Billy response is a deep moan, sending a vibration through both of them.

“Probably happened because of how much I worked your sweet spot. By the end your prostate was swollen to the touch.” The _T_ pops and Steve gives a full body shiver, shuddering in Billy’s arm.

Billy’s hands closes around Steve’s hard cock, starts lazily stroking him, pressure light, more than the rubbing before but not enough - it’s not enough- the ache Steve feels, it’s an empty ache. He wants to be filled, can feel how Billy’s cock has thickened. Billy rocks, rubbing at Steve’s crack, precome smearing, leaving a wet mess over his ass. 

Steve cranes his neck to search out Billy lips. Mumbling, “No seriously I can be quiet. Promise.”

“Promises, promises.” Billy tuts, while his thumb brushes over Steve’s piss slit. “Maybe the problem is I want to do too much to you. Did you ever think of that, pretty boy?” He asks before giving in and kissing Steve.

The kiss is a rush. Steve has no idea why they waited so long to do that, heat floods his body, he twist farther, making it easier to deepen it, to open his mouth and let Billy in.

He has a point to make, a need that’s growing. Steve breaks the kiss, Hesitates and then says, “That morning, after you left - I- -I touched myself, down there.” Heat floods his face, heart pounding, hoping the other boy understands. Admitting this sort of thing is new, makes Steve feel way out of his depth.

“Fuck, Steve.” His grip instantly grows firm on Steve’s throbbing dick. Long stokes from base to tip and then back down again, fanning the flames. “Tell me how it felt.”

Steve grunts in frustration, reaching back to grab at Billy’s ass. “I was wet - _fuck_.Okay? I was wet with your come.” He babbles as his nails dig into Billy’s flesh, into all that meat and muscle. “And it was good but not enough - oh god- I just want you to fuck me.” The last word are quiet, carried on an exhale.

Zero to sixty. One moment he is begging Billy to fuck him the next he is face down on the mattress with Billy's full weight pinning him down. His full attention being demanded by the blonde.

“These walls are paper thin, need you to be good for me, keep quiet. Do you understand?” Billy hisses quietly in his ear, stressing the point. Steve nods like a bobble head toy, face rubbing into the sheets.

Billy uses his knees to spread Steve’s legs. Spreads them wide and then pulls on Steve’s hips, his chest drags on the bed until he’s up on his knees. His cock bobs and kicks as it hangs free.

Two strong hands take hold of Steve’s asscheeks, pulling them apart, the cool air of the room hitting his exposed hole. With no manners or warning Billy spits. The wetness, a generous amount of it hits his hole. Steve chokes on a surprised cry, pushes his face into the bed as Billy uses two fingers to spread the wetness. The onset of pleasure coiling in his abdomen. Billy rubs, rubs from the top of his crack down to his taint then back up. He does it a few more times making a well worn path. Steve blindly reaches for a pillow, hands smacking around until he finds one, pulls it to his face, lets out a long moan that he’d been holding in. Chest expanding and contracting as he takes deep breaths.

And then there is the breach of the first finger, Steve would thank Billy if his teeth weren’t busy biting into the pillow. He rocks back, chasing the stretch as Billy starts finger fucking his hole. In and out, building to two fingers, two fingers scissoring, then dipping deeper, touching feeling. Steve’s body convulses in a hot waves of pleasure. His sweet spot, the thing he didn’t know he had until Billy touch it for the first time, sparks. His nerves go up in flames. Rocks back and back chasing the touch.

He grits his teeth and pushes up onto his hands, arms shaking to keep himself up. Looks over his shoulder back at Billy through the sweat dampened hair that’s fallen in his face. Blue eyes lock with his, eating him up, not missing a thing. Billy’s hold on his hip is steady, the fingers working inside of him are focused on the bundle of nerves, rubbing at them, pressure increasing. Steve drops his head, it hangs between his shoulders as he shudders out a low moan.

Looking down he can see two thick strings of precome. Two? it takes him a second to get a grasp on his vantage point and understand what he is seeing. His throbbing cock is leaking, dribbling down to the bed, behind him, so is Billy’s cock. The realization shocking his body with pleasure. He collapses on to the bed, ass still in the air, shoulders taking his weight, hands gripping at the sheets, pulling. Fighting himself on keeping quiet, whine catching behind his teeth. 

Billy works his fingers free, wipes them on the sheets. Then he moves up the bed to wraps his arms around Steve, pulling him down onto the bed to lay on his side.“You with me?” Billy’s question rumbles through him. 

Nodding Steve feels a little giddy, Billy is spooning him again, broad chest pressed firm against his back, mouth kissing at his shoulder and neck. Steve leans back into Billy’s embrace.

Billy runs a hand down Steve’s side, all the way down to his leg, taking hold under the knee, pulling, the leg bends at the knee. He brings the folded leg up closer to Steve’s chest. It takes a second for Steve’s brain to catch up, to under stand the position. That this is how they are going to do it. Billy rolls them forward, until the knee of his bent leg is resting on the bed, tells Steve to stay like that. He grips at the mattress, knuckles white. Body buzzing high on anticipation. He hears Billy spit again, followed by the wet head of his thick cock, testing the resistance of Steve’s hole. Billy leads himself in, has to work to get the head to pop past the tight ring of muscle. Sinks into Steve’s heat with a slow continuous push. The feeling pushes air out of both their lungs.

It’s a feeling, his body being made to take Billy. Steve is still shocked that he can fit inside of him. He’s sure that there is a word for what it makes him feel but he’s not going to find it now, mind already too gone.

Once Billy’s settled inside, after a few testing rolls of his hips he pulls Steve back to him, holding tight. It’s good, it’s intimate, being held by Billy likes this while he fucks him. The hand pressed flat to his chest anchoring him in place while the other holds his leg. Billy shifts his own leg, plants his foot on the bed for leverage, pulls Steve’s leg back to have it rest over his. A light bulb goes on in Steve’s head when the first thrust hits in this position. The controls it gives to Billy, how deep in lets him go, how good this is going to feel. 

They’ve been talking in hushed voice from the moment Steve set foot into Billy’s room last night but this silence while Billy is carefully rolling his thrusts into Steve, it is killing him. A boiling pot with its lid left on. Sounds; moans, grunts, and _oh my god_s push past Steve’s lips. 

The hand resting on Steve’s chest moves higher up, Billy’s fingers come to rest at his collar bones, applying pressure. “_Shhhh_, I know - I know.” He tries to quiet Steve.Grunting out the words, lips presses to his ear, breath hot.

How gone Billy’s sound only adds to everything Steve is feeling. A moan breaks from his lips before he can stop it. A shameful whine following it. He’s like a kid, the one that as soon as you tell them not to talk, they can’t shut up. The hot embarrassment he feels at his lack of control is short lived, Billy’s hand stokes up his neck, past his jaw coming to rest over his mouth in a firm grip. Something happens in Steve’s mind and body, a hot surge of arousal rushes through him, it's shocking.

“Tell me this is okay.” Billy sounds broken. The surge of arousal, he must of felt it too.

Steve nods into Billy’s hand, wanting whatever this is.

He grids into Steve. Humping. Rutting. Thick, fat cock working his insides. Billy bites at his shoulder. Shudders out moans.

It’s just constant, Billy is panting for it. Keeping his hips rolling like this can’t be easy, the methodical movement, pace and rhythm. Steve’s eyes roll back into his head, breathing heavily through his nose. He moans and whines into Billy’s hand. This feels dirty, why does dirty feel so good? Before Steve can grasp that thought it’s gone, lost as his mind starts to turn to mush. Billy is big, filling him up. His own cock bobs and jumps around with the impact of each hard roll of Billy’s hips.

Billy’s got a hold on him and all he can do is take it. The consistency of his movements reaching a point of almost too much, toeing the line of not feeling good. Steve remembers this feeling from when Billy was fingering him for the first time. It’s when he broke and started begging Billy to fuck him. Maddening pleasure, so good but not enough, desperate for the scales to tip. Steve tosses his head back, eyelashes fluttering, body trying to rock back on Billy’s cock, begging with his body for more

Billy’s hand tightens over his mouth. Hips drawing back, cock dragging out to the tip, it’s a long, tight, drag, feels so good, so dirty knowing how deep Billy’s been fucking inside of him, the action tears at Steve mind. Like the other times, he’s getting lost, wanting more, trusting Billy. 

He slams hard back into Steve’s tightness with a snapping buck and then another, setting a brutal pace. Pleasure zapping through Steve as pressure builds taking him higher.

The sounds their bodies make coming together fill the space of the room. They are too far gone to care. There is no headboard to smack against the wall, only the groan of the boxspring to accompany the sound of them. 

That spot inside of him that makes pleasure radiate out through his entire body is getting hit with Billy’s stronger thrusts. More than hit, bruised, feels so good. Steve could us his hand, stoke himself, sprint to the finish line, but he wants this high, greedy for it, knows his body is capable of it.

“I can fucking feel you, _oh fuck - _that fluttering.” Billy slurs, “So good for me.”

Steve’s hand flies up to cover Billy’s, the one over his mouth, needing it there, anchoring him, because Billy is fucking his mind out of his body. The ability to think dissolving with each snapping, deep driving thrust, taking him mind with it. He’s going to come on Billy’s dick. It feels so good. Pleasure washing his mind away, insides fluttering, starting to draw tight, more insistent, making Steve’s hole feel used. Penetration the unknown thing he had been looking for, the want to be filled. To be connected in this way. 

“Gonna make a mess inside of you. Watch it dribble out of your hole. You’ll let me right? Let me touch you there after?” He sounds desperate. Their bodies rock together.

Steve nods into Billy’s hand, incoherently. Balls pulling up tight, abdomen contracting in pure bliss. His cock unloads, pulsing ropes of come, thick and heavy scented.

He’s gone. Riding a pleasure high. Billy thrusts into him a handful more times, it heightens the high, body a vessel for him to enjoy. Steve feels Billy’s disjointed movement the way his hole stretches from them, then, finally, the last deep grid before he comes. Comes deep inside of Steve, mouth pressed into the crook of his neck panting.

Billy does, touch him, touches his used hole afterwards. Spreading the come that had been inside and then runs out. He is gentle, cautious, fingers lightly circling Steve’s puffy rim. Stops before it becomes a bad thing, keeping it dirty and good. So good.

They doze on and off for somewhere over an hour. Nose to nose, eyes flutter open and closed. Billy let’s Steve fiddle with his necklace and run his fingers through his curls before finally falling all the way asleep with them tangled in his lock. Billy’s hand softly holding onto his wrist, thumb resting on his pulse point, feeling his heartbeat.

Parting doesn’t feel desperate, it’s not an end.

Steve’s not in a hurry to go but all the same he needs to be getting home. There can’t be any confusion with this, not like the last time. The hurried desperation that left them both on edge, he’s not doing that agin.

“The movie tomorrow, it’s the matinee, right?”Billy ask from where he sits in the windowsill, finishing his smoke, casually watching Steve get dressed.

The boxspring groans as Steve slowly sits down on the edge of the bed, tennis shoes in hand. Looks up from his bent positions to nod at Billy as he ties the laces. “Yeah, at noon. Don’t forget to bring Max with you.”

“Who?” A smile teases at the corner of Billy’s mouth. 

Straightening up Steve rolls his eyes. “Really, funny.” 

Billy lazily puts out his smoke and stands up. Steve grabs his jacket off the unmade bed, slips in on before standing and going over to the window.

He steps in front of Billy who is leaning on the wall next to the open window. The blonde is wearing his sweater. Steve isn’t going to ask for it back because he likes seeing Billy in his things. Plus the color of the sweater makes the blue of his eyes brighter or maybe it’s the way the daylight filter into the room, lighting up his irises, flecks of gold showing.

“Any idea what happens after the movie?” Billy asks, the easy from early gone out of his voice. The question is bigger than what he is asking. There is more to it. 

Those blue eyes of Billy’s are pensive like he’s holding something back. The feeling makes Steve’s brows furrow. He is not always good with words, not as articulate as he would like to be. Years spent hiding how slow he is at learning behind being the King of Hawkins High is working to his disadvantage. Or maybe it’s his parents and what he learned from watching their relationship fade into silence. It could be a lot of things but Steve is over feeling like he’s going to mess up. Has to give himself and Billy more credit than that. They’ve been through too much for one possible misstep of words to screw up what they have.

This is real, they are Billy’s words but they feel like the right ones. The language of Billy Hargrove, maybe that’s the right thing to do - to say - to use the other boy’s words. They’re his after all, hopefully he will understand them. “Billy, you’ve got to know, right? That _this is real_ for me too.”

Something like recognization flashes through Billy’s eyes, making the gold flecks go brighter or maybe the blue darker. Piercing gaze fully alert, his attention on Steve.

Steve’s heartbeat kicks. _This is real_. Now that he has said those words back to Billy, now that they’ve rolled off his tongue they taste and sound a lot like - I love you.

This is real. Three little words.

Steve could smack himself in the head right now. Last week Billy told him he loves him or something close to that. Jesus, he is dense.

For all his denseness, the shock of the discovery fades quickly and he’s left with a warm vibration flowing through him. Starts to stammer, “Billy - I - I…” He’s back to searching for the right words to say - what he wants to say.

“Save it, pretty boy.” Billy’s voice is little more than a whisper. It’s not unkind, there is no malice behind what he just said.

Steve thinks he gets it. Those words, saying them right now, in this moment, might be too much. It doesn’t make him want Billy any less. It’s just - they’re at the beginning, this is where things really start and maybe they do have those felling but they don’t need to rush it.

He smiles at Billy. Looks him in the eye while saying. “I will.” He means it, no bullshit. It’s tucked away for another time. For when it’s right.

Billy hasn’t stopped looking at him, his gaze has just gotten more intense. It feels soul searching. Steve hopes whatever it is he is looking for he finds, wants so badly to be able to give Billy whatever it is he needs.

His hands comes up, one to pull at the collar of the sweater, while the other reaches down into his shirt underneath bringing out his necklace, the metal shines in the morning light. Steve’s brows furrow, confusion melting into understanding as he watches Billy taking it off over his head.

He brings his head up, tips it back, stares at Steve with raw emotion as he holds out the hand clutching the necklace.

Steve’s heart beats like it’s jumping rope. He doesn’t know anything about the necklace. That’s not true, he doesn’t know it’s history. He does know that he has never seen Billy without it and on that fact alone it must be important to him. 

He can’t say no to it, not that he wants to. The metal the necklace is made from might be strong but there is something fragile about this gesture and if Steve refuses he’s not so sure he’ll get the chance again. So he holds out his hand, palm up, lets Billy coil the chain in his palm.

Billy looks at him, expression a mixture of hard and vulnerable. Like he would throw a punch first and cry angry tears second. A reassuring smile ghost over Steve’s lips. He ducks his head and slips the necklace on, drops it down his shirt. The action is foreign to him. The metal is cold on his skin but quickly warms up. It weighs more than Steve would have thought. It’s a weight that he likes, one that he can carry.

He reaches to brush curls back from Billy’s face. The blonde lets him, leaning into the touch. With his other hand Steve takes Billy by the wrist, brings his hand up and places it on his chest so he can feel where the pendant lays. 

They kiss as long as the can, uses up every last second before Steve has to go home.

On the walk back to his car Steve keeps thinking about how Billy Hargrove is in love with him or something close to it.

Steve, he’s good with it. More than good with it.It feels like the first true thing in his life.

It is real. The weight of the necklace a solid reminder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited to have finished this. Thanks to everyone for reading and being part of the journey!


End file.
